Spaces Between
by TrulyWished
Summary: Schuldig and Farfarello's first meeting and the years they spend in training for Schwarz. yaoi, language, lime, lemon later chapters, violence, gore. It's Farfarello, he's a warning by himself. Thanks for reading!
1. Chapter 1

So, this is the beginning of my new fic. I'm still working on it and updates might not be all that quick, but they'll be steady, at least for the first while. BE AWARE: this fic contains yaoi, rape, sex in general, blood, gore, language, everything you can imagine, so if you don't want to see it, please stop right here. Thank you. Personally, I think anything with Farfarello in it should tip you off. However, let's continue. I sincerely hope you will enjoy it and that you will review as I love to hear what you do or don't like about my work.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, of course. I don't even own the computer I'm writing this on, which, if I owned any kind of rights to Weiss, I certainly would.

Normally I wouldn't bother with this, but just in case:

"talk" - verbal words, of course

'talk' – personal thoughts

::talk:: - telepathic conversation

Spaces Between

Chapter 1

::Hate it here, hate it here, hate it here!:: The look out of the corner of the guard's eye told him he was broadcasting and NO FUCKING SHIT! He tried not to cringe away from the heavy hand wrapped around his arm, half waiting for the electric shock to travel through his body.

"Not today, my boy. Today, you get to run a test." Dark ringed green widened and the redhead tried to dig in his heels a bit. "You're gonna have fun this time. He's on his eighteenth, and you? You're gonna make nineteen."

A mocking grin formed on the large face as the small, thin boy started to struggle, fighting in earnest. Begging would do no good, nor would fighting, but the sixteen-year old couldn't help himself, kicking and trying to bite the leather covered arm. A firm cuff upside the head and the small telepath stopped, shaking his head to clear the dizziness. "In you go."

A hard shove sent the redhead to his knees and the echoing click of the lock was lost in his scramble for the door. Giggling was clear and he pressed his back to wall, eyes darting from side to side to find the source. His hands slipped out from under him, sending him sliding along the floor; dim light was enough for him to see the blood coating his skin, fresh and gleaming.

Wet choking from his left drew his horrified gaze over to see a girl, her chest sliced neatly open, still struggling to breathe, to live. 'What is this?' He'd been here for over six months, at least by the markings on the wall under his bed, but this, he'd never seen anything like this. Dull gray eyes rolled towards him and glazed with a final clinging breath; the giggling was louder now, moving steadily towards him.

"Hello. Are you here to help me?" Eerie cat eyes glowed, gold with slits in the center, the bright irises rimmed with black. Pale skin flowed, smooth over light muscle, gleaming with the, being's movements; he couldn't believe this was human. It must be something Esset had created, a new prototype of some sort.

"Stay away from me. Stay over there." His arm shook as he raised it, holding his hand in front of him as a focus, a target for his still young powers.

A slow step, then another, weaving a little, forcing the slim arm to wave to track the delicate looking brunette; the scars on his face and hands seemed to glow with his eyes, stark and bright against his skin. "You should hurt God with me." Short dark hair bobbed quickly, the gentle accent smooth and eerily beautiful. "He cries when blood spills, when pain burns through your body. Come help me."

A shuddered whimper and the redhead pushed, shoving power down his arm, seeking the brush of a mind to work on. There, a tiny strand of energy flowed and he latched onto it, forcing his way in, seeking control. He realized almost instantly it was a trap, a whirlpool of insanity, no sense of order, only blood and ramblings against God and his earthly aides. Focus, there must be something, anything to hold it; he waded deeper, refusing to pull out, seeking and pushing.

No shields appeared to reject him and he wondered if the others had tried to escape and been captured, rendered helpless by their own talents. An image formed, the being's perception of his own mind; a sea of blood flooding the senses with warmth and wet, taste and smell, the silky smooth texture. No words, not true thoughts, only images, a moving picture show of impressions and ideas. A tiny island rose in the distance and the young man headed for it, forcing his physical body to crawl away from the advancing thing.

The island was barely a patch of dirt but there was a boy, brunette, in his early teens, who held out his arms in welcome. The redhead wanted to explore, seek more, but he could feel and smell the hot breath on his physical face, his hand pushed against the slender chest, bending as it was forced closer to his body, cold metal trailing down over his chest.

::Halt!:: A mental cage contained the small brunette image, immobilizing him. Strange eyes narrowed and he tried to push at the bars a little, then harder, a low growl echoing over the sea and in the cell. A howl grew until it screamed through the blood covered room, making the redhead flinch and sweat to hold the creature back. ::Do not move!:: Harsh panting and he crawled back, out of range of that terrible, sharp knife, keeping it from touching his flat stomach.

The brunette was frozen, barely breathing, but the mental cage was shaking, shivering under the rage of the trapped boy. 'Please, please, let someone come, let me have passed, get me out of here.' Long minutes passed and they fought, pushing at each other, struggling for control; air was becoming difficult to get and the redhead felt himself faltering. His arm wavered, then fell to lay limp at his side as he collapsed to his knees. 'I can't hold him anymore, please, help me, someone!' The last thing he saw before his eyes fluttered closed was a shock of white hair, the color of snow, one of the things he missed the most from before; one of the only decent memories he had from before.

Gold shone, widening as the cage dissolved and the slim body surged forward, unholy light gleaming as the knife cut into the redhead's shoulder, drawing a thin line through his shirt and down the limp arm. "Whore! Whore red. Whores make God hurt, whores are excellent." A little pink tongue slid over the blood darkened cloth, exhausted sobs unheard, defeated whimpers ignored. White flashed and even teeth dug into the cut, marking a perfect ring on pale skin; the redhead screamed faintly, pain blossoming in his shoulder and traveling to his feet, circulating in his body.

"My whore." Blood was lapped away and the smaller body was laid gently on the floor, the light-haired man curling around it. The small body was warm, a change from the coolness of the cell and the colder blood he'd already spilled. "What's your name?"

Such a casual question, calmly asked, and the older boy shivered, instinctively curling into a ball for safety. "Forget. You?" May as well be civil; after all, this man would kill him, no harm in being nice now.

Strong hands forced the slender body flat to press against. "Farfarello is my new name. Pretty isn't it?" Short hair brushed his chin in a nod. "Whores are guilty, even more so than everyone else. I will call you Guilt." Another short nod and a soothing hand ran over the smaller man's back. "You should sleep. They will come back in the morning to take away my old toys."

"Aa, ar, aren't you going to kill me?" Green opened slowly, staring straight ahead at the blood spattered chest, white clothes dyed pink. 'Please, whatever God is there, don't let him play with me long.'

Short white hair tilted and a long finger tapped the pert little nose. "No. Whores make God cry. It would please him for me to kill you; you belong to me now. My guilty whore."

The newly named Guilt just shivered and hoped morning would come soon. No respite there; the guards just slipped in, removed the bodies, and slipped out, leaving the two young men curled on the cold floor. Hours passed and the killer slept, relaxed around his new, terrified roommate.

Finally, the redhead couldn't wait any longer. ::Is someone there?:: A questing tendril, hoping for an answer, even one that said to shut up.

::Yes.:: A signature he recognized, one of his regular instructors.

Hope perked its ears. ::Please, can I come out now?::

::No. There is food at the door.:: A miserable little sniff but he tried to hold the tears in; crying only got you a beating and he was bruised enough.

"Are they being mean to my whore?" The smaller body jerked and eyes bruised from sleep deprivation flew open; he hadn't noticed a change in breathing but a faint flutter at the edge of his consciousness informed him the now blond teen was awake and had been for a while. The lilt of Ireland was gone, leaving a bland, unaccented voice to speak textbook English.

A tentative foray into the now calm mind and he brushed a landscape of gold and green, a sun of his own eyes visible in the sky. ::Can you hear me?:: It was so different, how could one person have such different mindscapes?

::Of course I can.:: Words were clear, as though spoken verbally and the redhead looked up; a bright grin was directed down and Guilt tried to smile back a little. ::You made this bond, now we'll never be apart.:: There was a boy, white blond and slender, gold eyes shining as he stared down at the telepath wandering his mind; a mental manifestation of Farfarello's self. Or one of them. Guilt wasn't sure which was the true form, this or the brunette, but he couldn't be bothered at the moment to find out. The blond sounded so happy, thrilled with having someone else in his head that the redhead could only shake his head in wonder. He hated sharing his mind and thoughts, even just for practice.

The lock clicked loudly in the silence and white whipped around, red trailing Guilt's senses as the lithe body pounced on the slender, female arm that shoved a tray inside and tried to pull back. "Mine!" Silver shone and blood flowed, the arm yanked straight and the blade forced neatly between bones at the elbow to screams and cursing; a small foot braced on the wall to resist the struggling of the captured limb. The arm was severed quickly and the blond retreated, playing with the fingers of his prize. "Guilt, come look! God is crying, right now!"

Blood flashed through their bond and the smaller boy was left gasping as the charming, calm landscape disappeared completely under a layer of red. "Goo, good, that's good, Farfarello. Put it down and come eat something." A shaking hand was held out; he didn't sense anything malevolent directed towards him but there was no guarantee his arm wouldn't be the second in a collection.

Slitted eyes watched him for a second and he explored gently, floating above the red whirlpools as they directed the bloodlust away, funneling it down under the perfect green of hills. The arm was laid down and Farfarello bounced over to examine the tray; most of the food was packaged and safe from blood spatter, but the bread was ruined, the forks slick. The blond killer grabbed both utensils and licked them clean eagerly, holding one out in offering to the other boy.

A shaking hand, why couldn't he make it stop? was held out and took the clean fork, using it to pry the lid off a container of stew. The redhead hesitated then took a deep breath and lifted a bite to his lips; it was the best meal of his life, tinged with the blood of his captors and the taste of a new partner, the last meal he hadn't believed he would get a chance to eat.

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The fastest way, it seemed, to break Number 928TX, who called himself Farfarello, was to break the little redheaded telepath he'd taken a liking to, Number JD910. Beating the fighter seemed to have no effect, at least judging by his laughter and yells for more; an instructor slid into his mind, following the red waves further and further down and found nothing. No pain, no fear, no respect, no true feelings at all, only bloodlust and the obsession with making God scream.

So they removed the smaller teen after a week, nearly losing a guard to the vicious knife, and locked him in the punishment room; a small room with only enough space to sit and no insulation at all, leaving the young talent to shield himself from the thoughts of thousands. He was crying in under a quarter hour, screaming in half, his fists bloody from pounding on the walls to drown out the voices. When he went silent in his second hour, a guard swung by to check and see if he'd managed to kill himself; eerie green stared blankly at him, watching the large man open the door and walk over to kick at the blood streaked side.

"Worthless." The redhead didn't move, the tiny portion of his mind left conscious barely enough to force him to walk when pushed; his shields hardly protected his core from the influx of random thoughts. He had come to the school mere days after his talent manifested itself and spent most of his time either training at controlling others or in his insulated room; his defense mechanisms were severely lacking as they couldn't be bothered teaching someone weak to defend themselves until he proved himself worth the trouble. "Get up." A big, heavy hand wrapped around his wrist and yanked, jerking the frail body to its feet to stumble forward.

"In you go, they're waiting." Dull eyes took in the door and sluggishly ran over their route; he shivered and pulled back, digging in his heels, refusing to walk in there. A harsh grunt and he was slung over a thick shoulder.

'You have your hands and feet and teeth, use them. Unless you want to die, fight even if it hurts.' Old advice, things he barely remembered he'd learned on the streets. Even little teeth dug into the thick flesh bouncing under his face, small feet kicking harshly into the firm stomach; another grunt and he was thrown, tossed across the cement floor to roll against a table in the center.

"That's enough." A booted foot rested on the thin back, holding the weak body down with ease. ::Still something left, hmm?:: A whimpered shudder and the boy bolted, racing through the paths of his mind, desperate to escape the destruction they would bring to him if he was captured.

Under his flimsy shields, the bridge he'd formed glowed, waiting for him to try and run across it; but if he left, he might not be able to come back, might not make it across in the first place. ::Farfarello!:: White flashed on the other side of the thin line, a steady jog across, the slippery feel of blood under confident feet not slowing him at all.

::Still here, Guilt? Come play!:: Guilt hesitated, torn between trying to save himself and running; his shield were falling rapidly, crashing down under the steady assault of the instructors.

His physical body curled tightly, huddled in around itself as he reached out and let the blond take his hand to pull him over, dragging him through curtains of thick red to glide over the oceans pulsing under their feet. He panted heavily and the younger boy slowed, hovering over a wide expanse of nothing; a pale, scarred hand reached out and waves crashed, forced away from the small island rising steadily.

::Look, Guilt, this is for you!:: He always sounded so excited, so happy for the redhead to be there, and the telepath smiled back shakily.

They explored, trailing over the small circle, digging bare feet into the soft grass and warm dirt. The screams of the bit of self the telepath had left behind, the part he couldn't take with him, were faint and could almost be ignored; the thought that it could have been him made him cling to the slender hand in his. White jerked around and a giggle slipped out. ::He's here!::

When he focused, the brush of a mind against his sanctuary had the smaller boy crouching, making himself as small as possible. ::Come, Guilt, let's go play with him.:: A pleased little giggle. ::We will rip his mind from his talent and trap him in the hell of lies God created from the world.::

The touch was more firm now, more confidant as the invader examined the landscape and felt he could handle it; the white-haired teen appeared before him, watching quietly. ::Where is the weak one?:: Thin shoulders moved in a negligent shrug only to be captured and forced straight, a painful sounding slap echoing over the empty sea. ::Stupid child, you think you can not be broken?::

Gold eyes looked up, a sly smile growing rapidly; a flick of a pale hand and the world tilted, twisting harshly. The path behind the older telepath disappeared in a trail of smoke and laughter rang before the teen vanished, returning to sit beside his protégé. ::Bet he runs around for an hour before he gets tired and drowns.::

::Where did the other go?:: He knew there had been two behind him, had felt different powers breaking his mind but the figure beside him shrugged, uncaring. ::And, I, I bet he doesn't last the hour.:: Bright laughter and a friendly shoulder bumped his while they watched the man dart in circles, lost in the endless red with no markers to find his way back out; pulses of power were overwhelmed and swallowed up by the greedy waves, strength lessened by the lack of anything to hold.

They took turns counting seconds and making lines in the dirt as minutes passed, their victim dropping lower and lower until his feet skimmed the top of the dark waters, finally slipping under at one hour and six minutes. ::I win!:: Gleeful clapping accompanied the final splash and bubble as the enemy disappeared, mere feet away from the invisible island.

::You win. What do you want?:: A bold question but he felt safe for the moment and would give whatever he could to his savior.

A hard yank forced him to his knees, facing the blond, staring into cat-yellow eyes. ::Make me invincible. I wish to make God scream forever.::

The redhead stayed still, frozen at the impossible request. ::How?::

::Make me strong, make me indestructible, give me shields and give me control of my sanity.:: Intense eyes pinned the smaller teen and he licked his lips, nodding a bit. ::You should have long hair.:: A complete change of topic left the redhead gaping; his head shook and he focused back on the problem of granting the impossible.

First the easy part, shields; those he could set up easily enough. Farfarello's mind was a trap but simple shields would give the illusion of weakness, bait in a way. Strength he had in abundance but he could open the memory pathways a little, let him learn faster, soak in knowledge and put it to use in his crusade. Indestructible, healing, metabolism maybe; when he asked, he was shown to where the unconscious parts of the blond's brain rolled along, beneath notice but vital if he was to succeed.

How, strange. A series of switches, some obviously connected to their function, some not, and some had dark areas covering warped switches; he'd never seen or heard of anything like this. Not that he had a lot of experience, but nothing like this had shown up during tests or in any of the books he'd been told to read. The redhead prodded lightly at the ones that he could figure out what they did. Others were left alone, the risk of causing damage too great.

Farfarello stayed away, avoiding that area, hovering at the edges while the redhead nudged at the sections controlling endorphins, pushing them to max, and metabolism, shoving the energy production almost to the edge, careful not to push too far. Too efficient and the slender body would burn out, using any available fuel including itself. He pulled away lightly, already feeling the small changes taking effect, a surge in energy and alertness, any pain centers the younger boy had left buried under pleasure and a general sense of calm. 'I wonder what happened to the pain receptors?' Because there were functioning nerves, just the sensation of pain was blocked out.

Short bright hair shook and he moved on his next task. Sanity would be the hardest, the most difficult to track down, never mind control. They wandered, resting whenever the small form became tired, searching fruitlessly for a clue to the source of insanity. Clanging from the door of the cell drew their attention and a tall, thin woman stepped in, a man they recognized as a telekinetic behind her. "You are going for training in firearm use." Guilt retreated to his island, able to see and hear but hidden from any seeking minds.

"Give me back my whore." A tight smile and the woman gestured behind her with a wave.

"Finish the training and he'll be returned to you." Guilt hid, shivering under her gaze while the killer grinned and walked quietly forward, following the guards without an ounce of aggression.

The guns were faintly interesting, heavy and solid in pale hands, but the paint they used to imitate blood was thin and didn't have the slippery feel or rich smell of real blood. While the blond played at learning to aim and to compensate for a too big weapon, Guilt snuck back to the bridge, tentatively putting a foot on the slick surface and balancing precariously along to the other side.

He looked around, exploring the chaos left behind, cradling the mangled bit of talent he'd sacrificed for himself, cooing to it as he tried to brush the worst of the damage away. His shields were rubble and he started to rebuild them carefully, strengthening them for the future.

A sharp pain paralyzed him long enough for a strong hand to curl around his neck, lifting him to dangle, kicking and choking. ::Got you. Thought you could hide from us, did you?:: He was forced to consciousness, dragged out screaming and kicking, anchored by a hard hand at his back.

Green fluttered open to look around the room from his new vantage point; his physical body was kneeling, arms above his head, tied to the ceiling. The thin clothes had been tugged off and were in a bloody pile on the floor, leaving him shivering in the cold air. "Got him. Stronger than he tested, shame we have to break him." High whines and he pulled at his hands, kicking a bit to get his feet under him; heavy boots kicked at his ankles, bruising delicate skin.

"Shut him up, he's annoying." A snort of laughter and a large hand gripped his chin, forcing him mouth open to push a thick cock in, brushing the back of his throat before pulling out and pushing back in. The hard hand kept his mouth open, preventing him from biting, even if he could get his jaw to close; tears streaked his face and he screamed in his head, over and over, deafening himself to everything else.

Heat touched his lower back an instant before his knees were shoved apart and a hot hand trailed over the slight slope of his ass, cupping one small buttock to pull it aside, opening him up. He barely had time to scream again before hard flesh shoved into him, ripping the tender flesh, blood flowing freely. A final shriek and he lost all control, the last of the shields to access his potential talent falling, screaming and shoving against the mental hold on his mind; the man behind him stiffened and jerked at the pulsing against his talent, unexpected strength forcing his hold to loosen then snap, throwing him into his own head with enough force to rock his physical body back.

Rage as he'd never felt before, pounding at him, no order, pure chaos, and Guilt felt a taste of Farfarello nearby, not touching him, but watching, lending strength if it was desired. The telepath refused, following the open trail to his tormentor's mind and wreaking havoc, curved blades of pain slashing the older mind to pieces before he moved on, battering the shields protecting his secondary opponent, silencing his yells for help with a twist of his psychic wrist. A guard opened the door at the signs of trouble and was forced to walk in, lock the door behind him, and shoot the frozen instructor five times in the head. He babbled, terrified as his hand seemed to grow a mind of its own, turning the gun on his own head for the last shot.

In the final silence, Farfarello's demented laughter echoed.

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The crack of a switch hitting flesh was the first clue the blond had that he was being addressed. A red mark appeared on his shoulder, fading to pink, then white in seconds. "You! Get back to the line." He peered up at the burly man, turning his head a bit to stare at the woman who had brought him.

The metal of his guns was warm from his hand and the repeated shooting, the air filled with the clean tang of gunpowder and the scent of blood as others failed to learn as quickly as he did. Guilt's screams were still in his head, tucked away in a secret place to play with later and he turned to face the instructor fully. "You're a liar." No sign of aggression, no hint of malice, no warning, and a gun came up and went off, the bullet exploding out the top of the surprised man's head.

Young screams rang as he turned to face the thin woman, feeling her power bat at him, tangling in the shields his whore had placed over his mind. She burst through in time to fall under the tidal wave of his rage, red coloring everything, even his own vision; the guns were still steady in his hands, pointed at her and her partner, frozen from the shock of the mental attack. "Liar. Liars must be punished. Not even God misses liars." The two shots were clear, cutting the background noise to nothing until alarms began to ring.

By the time a crew got to the gun range, the blond was playing by himself, carefully skinning a student he'd captured, lapping at the blood happily and painting designs on the floor and his arms. He stood and followed docilely when called by his chosen name and returned to his cell without incident, the crack of a rare mercy shot in his ears.

A new system was implemented for dealing with Number 928TX; a new cell was prepared with a separate entrance to leave him without a chance to attack the one feeding him. He was stripped and searched daily for weapons before being nudged in; he shrieked for food frequently and inhaled anything given, eating constantly to feed the requirements of his growing body and increased metabolism. By the end of the week, the routine was set and he wandered through it easily; four base meals, seven if he behaved and went through training properly, the search before returning to his cell for the night, and a mental rummage when he was in a good mood.

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Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! Review please 


	2. Chapter 2

And chapter 2! Thanks to those who reviewed, I appreciate your feedback greatly!

Chapter 2

"Step back and close the door." The usual woman spoke calmly, hip pressed against the outer door while she waited for the boy to obey. "Come on, I'm in a hurry."

"I want my whore." She didn't have to look to know he was still there, watching her with those freaky eyes. Damn she hated this particular duty.

"I don't care. Close the door or I'm taking your meal with me." A soft series of steps and the door closed behind him quietly. "Lock it and push the key out. Come on, same as always."

Click. A light metal clang as the key slid over the floor towards her. Her door unlocked at the touch of the code and she bent to place the tray on the floor and pick up the key. When she lifted her head, he was there, staring at her intently; her startled cry was stifled by a slender hand, her vocal cords and body paralyzed using the twist of strong fingers he'd been taught hours earlier.

Terrified eyes watched the needles prick her skin, where the hell did he hide those?, drawing drops of blood; one was licked then spat out, the little pink tongue wiped on a pale hand. "You taste disgusting. You are filthy and do not deserve to go before God." Hope that he wouldn't kill her died under the malicious grin. "He will sob with disgust when one such as you comes to Him."

She watched him prepare carefully, folding a piece of paper from her check-sheet to place in the door, preventing it from locking automatically, then lifting her easily and carrying her to the back of his cell to drop her on the hard floor. There was a flutter at her shields, faint and gentle; she recognized it as an empath and reached out desperately, funneling fear, pain, and the hope they would look for her towards whoever it was.

Amber glowed down, flashing as the white head turned in the dim light. Mad giggling, a sing-song voice, and shock darted through her. "I don't care." He couldn't be, there was no record of him having any kind of psychic talent, never mind a gentle talent like empathy. "It's a secret. You won't tell, will you?" More giggling and he began, stripping dark skin away from pale muscle, using his needles to edge layers up and to separate individual muscle.

Each muscle was removed and laid out carefully, gently. Major veins were avoided, bleeding kept as low as possible to prolong his time. She shrieked, a constant flow of emotion sliding over his tongue, fascinating with her ability to feel pain and share it with him, an infrequent experience and much enjoyed.

Shots and yelling screamed through the ward and the walls bled that night, talents hiding under their beds or huddling together to warm the rush of ice that flowed over them with the laughing voice that sang in the halls.

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Serious discussion went into simply putting him down and recording it as a failure but greed kept him alive, the determination to use such a uniquely ruthless and practically indestructible prize to their own ends; they watched him cut himself open time and again when there was no one else, healing in minutes. His only hint of weakness was the little redheaded telepath that had survived a week with him; the problem? That particular talent was locked in the medical ward.

Number JD910 was a wreck when the door was forced, hanging limply from the ceiling, covered in blood spatter, bleeding sluggishly, babbling about how much it hurt and make it stop now. Three telepaths and a guard dead, with only a weak, confused telepath as witness; questioning did no good, with the boy disappearing into his mind and refusing to answer anything, even when forced forward. General paranoia and outrage gripped the instructors and guards, covering the heavy fear.

There was talk of just putting him down too, or moving him to the practice area. His records were scanned and they placed him in the medical ward, hoping he would come back and keep a hand on Number 928TX, who had attacked his target practice group at the same time as the psychic attack; coincidence didn't exist, not in Rosenkreuz. Various techniques from brute force to gentle persuasion were used to find the connection; they wandered his mind, ignoring the small, huddled form in the back, curled in a ball.

Guilt found that if he stayed put and covered his bridge to Farfarello, they would leave him alone. The new power was disorganized, sliding over his senses and bringing the tiniest details into sharp focus. He found that he could isolate most of it and nudged it onto the little island Farfarello had created for him; it remained untouched, the blond staying away unless the redhead was there, and served as the perfect storage area.

His memories were shredded and tossed into the red seas of the blond's mind, to be destroyed or stored wherever Far kept such things; as long as they needed him he would survive, and he was determined to survive. He would get out of here unbroken, no matter what it took; every lesson would be learned, every trick memorized until the day he was free. Then he would turn it on them and vaporize everything they ever dreamed they were.

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"Just toss him in there and see what happens. I don't know why he's still alive, it's pathetic." Heavy boots marched towards the bed where the thin redhead huddled, curled under his blanket. "We're supposed to be creating the next level of humans, not messing around with some low-level talent."

"Shh, don't say that so loudly!" A lower voice hissed at the first, worry nipping at the edges. "You know very well it's because Hardring wants the psycho under our command." Fear kept pace with them and Guilt hid further away from them, head tucked under his pillow.

'Whatever. Hardring is an asshole.' The thought skipped over the young telepath's shields, annoyance and disgust with the man's commander clear. "Get up, you useless brat. We're taking you to your room."

Green peered at him but nothing else moved; a hard hand slapped down on his rear and he jolted, sudden pain flashing through his body, overshadowing the constant throb. He'd been so torn he'd needed three stitches; his i.v. had been removed that morning, taking the steady flow of painkillers with it. The second man, smaller with softer edges to his face winced and held out his arm to prevent another strike. "He's still hurt. Have a guard carry him."

An annoyed snort from the first man but he turned and stomped off. "I'm Darias, an empath. Are you alright?" Thin shoulders hunched protectively but he nodded quickly, taking little furtive breaths; there was a slightly sweet smell, a little spicy. "Can you tell me what happened last week? You were hurt very badly, I know, but we want to find who did it." Short red hair shook quickly; trusting someone just because they looked or smelled nice was the stupidest thing you could do.

"Here, take the brat." The first man was back and shoved at Darias, pushing him out of the way so a large guard could lift the blanketed bundle and sling it over his shoulder. "Come on, let's go." Darias winced again at the jolting steps and soft whimpers but followed silently.

It was a long walk, Guilt rummaging in his mind for something to distract him from the pain; they stopped outside an odd looking door and a tendril of question was sent out to see what was beyond the door. The second he caught the feeling of that red landscape he started to struggle, kicking and wriggling, fighting the hand that held him down.

From beyond the door, another door slammed shut and metal clinked loudly. "Huh, he's pretty agreeable today. Ready?" Darias moved forward, closing his eyes in concentration as the guard and the brusque man both drew their weapons, training them on the door as it opened slowly under a spoken command at the empath's nod. Nothing moved, the entrance was empty and the guard knelt to place his burden on the floor.

A white blur dropped from the ceiling, landing on the bent neck, forcing it forward sharply; an experienced fighter, the burly man rolled, letting the force push him forward without breaking his neck. The redhead was shoved away, rolling helplessly in his blanket as he struggled to be free. ::Far!::

The blond froze, one hand in the dark hair, forcing the large head back to expose the neck to his spike that hovered, trembling at the abrupt halt he'd called to his strike. Both guns were trained on him, one to his head, the other to his chest. "Stand down!"

Cat's eyes watched them brightly before focusing on the empath standing behind his partner; easy prey that one. They narrowed and his legs bunched again, ready to spring. ::Farfarello, leave them. They aren't worth it.:: He just wanted to curl up and sleep, huddle down on the island in the blond's mind, and be watched over; calm was pushed through the bonds, pressing the bloody sea away to show green and rounded hills.

The fighter sprang, backwards to touch his back to the wall, hands up, metal weapon falling to the floor. His grin mocked but he stood still for a quick inspection, letting them check in his mouth and pat him down; his eyes fluttered closed and Guilt knew he was getting a mental scan as well.

A last disgusted sound and the door shut behind them, lock snapping into place. A thin hand reached out and was taken, drawing the weak boy to stand then into a carry, leaving the blanket laying in a pile on the floor; it smelled of sickness and the drugs they forced into the blond and he refused to touch it. His nest was in the back, made of clothes he'd stolen, the odd blanket taken from another student, and the small body curled slowly into soft cloth, shivering in the cool air. ::Guilt!::

::Sleep, I need to sleep.::

::No, come play. I already slept today.:: As if nothing but his desires mattered, as if the redhead existed only for his pleasure.

And perhaps he did. ::No, Farfarello, I hurt. I need to sleep.:: A second blanket was tugged up slowly to wrap around his shoulders. "Let me sleep."

Slitted eyes watched him, yellow flaring in the dim light. "Are you weak?" Short red hair lifted slowly to stare at the blond, watching the light flash over tilting white hair.

A light brush of minds showed the link shut down, a thick curtain of heavy liquid flooding their bond. He pushed to his side, curled protectively around his stomach, shifting to face the boy he wanted to make his partner. "I was. But I won't be anymore." ::Make me strong like you.::

There was no hint that the younger boy had heard his thought and they stared at each other. Their mental bridge shook but the telepath stepped out, sliding his feet along the slick surface; almost halfway and the entire structure shuddered, the harsh torrent of blood falling faster, harder.

Bare feet slipped, thin arms flailing as the small body started to fall; one hand clung, delicate fingers tearing into the bond, tips bleeding, screaming at him with pain. He could let go, let himself fall into whatever oblivion lay below, but then he would never have his revenge, never rip them apart for what they did to him. Tears fell steadily as he forced his other arm up, digging in and struggling to crawl up to lay against the bridge, breathing ragged.

He could have been there for minutes or hours until his breathing evened out again and he started to inch along, dragging himself over the glowing bond, closer and closer to the waterfall. When his hand reached out to touch, a brush of power changed the thick fluid to pale blue water, letting it run over his fingers, warm and soothing. ::Come Farfarello. We will make their blood run as mere water through their veins in terror. Our names will become synonymous with fear to our enemies, to our captors.::

There was no sound from the other side of the bridge, no movement; suddenly a hand shot out and gripped his wrist, yanking him to his feet and twirling him around. ::My vengeful whore.::

Laughter slid free, screamed as the redhead wrapped his legs around the slender waist and let himself be whirled until he was dizzy. His hair changed, growing steadily to fall halfway down his back in a wave of orange and scarred hands ran through it roughly, combing long strands with a pleased noise. ::Schuldig, Schuldig Rache.:: He shrieked at the darkening sky, his support screaming with him. ::My name is Schuldig Rache and we will come to bring a massacre, a slaughter such as you fuckers have never seen!::

When the guard checked on them later that evening, they were fast asleep, curled together in the nest at the back of the room. 'Who'd have thought? Guess even psychos need something to look after.' He shook his head at the thought and backed away when amber eyes flicked open to stare at him; a soft sigh and the thin body rolled over to go back to sleep. 'Damn crazies, fucking hate night duty.'

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The new power was disconcerting, to say the least. Oh, it felt good, wonderful really, to be able to do anything he wanted, even hold Farfarello down. Provided he wasn't in a full on rant; while small ones could be contained, they both paid, lying spent on the floor without even enough energy to eat. Unfortunately, it was too much for his conscious mind to handle and he had to leave most of it hidden, segregated from himself; he created a little house for it on his island, gave it a form, and played with it daily while practicing control and stamina.

Farfarello adored the new little creature in his mind and would hover at the edge of the island and try to talk to it, coaxing it to come to him. Schuldig tried to explain to him that it wasn't conscious, it had no mind or will but he remained stubborn. When the redhead was there to practice, his blond partner would touch it, prodding and looking for a reaction.

Sometimes, just for fun, the older boy would make it move and do things, pretend it could think and feel; it always sent the hunter into gales of laughter. The other thing the telepath wanted to practice was calling his talent to himself through their bond, even when it was shut down. The first time, he ended up with a headache bad enough to keep him collapsed in the blankets all day, ignoring Farfarello's jumping on him and the guard who came to get them for lessons.

The second time he had limited success with a bit getting through but he still spent another day trying to rest; his partner was not as generous as the first time and insisted on playing, forcing him out of the nest and shoving him around on the floor until he was bored again. Then the cutting started and they had their first fight, Schuldig screaming at the blond and throwing anything he could get his hands on, the heavier boy laughing and running, throwing the make-shift missiles back.

An hour later, they made up and Farfarello decided he needed a nap, which the redhead was grateful for. While it was quiet in his mind, the fighter was exhausting to deal with every minute of every day. His attention span was short and he didn't seem to understand that it i hurt i Schuldig to move and he couldn't play roughly. Or maybe he just didn't care.

Third time was a success, a bit too much success, the entire force slamming into him and sending him into convulsions. After forcing a cloth wrapped knife between his teeth, Farfarello sat back and watched with interest; the first time the older boy stopped breathing, he just pounded on the thin chest until he started again. The second time, he got bored with his game, made sure he was breathing again, and dug around until he found a little green and blue pill. One of the sedatives they gave him every night, and he almost never swallowed; it was ground under the hilt of his knife and trickled between barely moving lips.

It started working almost immediately, the delicate body relaxing against the floor, and a blanket was tucked around the limp form. The blond carried him back their bed and snuggled close, even though it was the middle of the day. Meals came and he played with the guard a little before refusing to go to training, spending the day practicing by himself until a groggy telepath called him to complain about his chest hurting.

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"How are they?"

"Very well, sir. Schuldig is moving forward with his shielding and has moved back up to a fourteen." Darias stood beside his partner, shoulders back, hands at his sides.

"A low fourteen." The deep voice was still annoyed with their duty and the empath nudged his foot subtly.

"Sir, Schuldig is doing very well, especially considering the condition he was in three months ago. Being with Farfarello is calming for both of them." Darias motioned briefly with his hands, looking between the men. "Farfarello himself is progressing remarkably. He's moving through physical and weapons training at an amazing rate, faster than anything we've ever seen." Their superior leaned back, arms folded over his chest.

"And Number JD910 isn't. He's getting faster but he's still weak, his aim is pathetic, he's been barely passing his physical exams, he" His partner cut him off.

"Taran, I know you don't like him, he is a bit snippy and his attitude isn't that great. But, Sir, if he can just have some more time, he's smart and talented, he can catch up, he's not squeamish or afraid, he can learn." The smaller man played his trump card. "And he's got Farfarello down, kept him in line almost since they were placed together. We've only lost one guard where we lost what, a dozen, before? And he got careless, went in by himself without double checking the screens." And as far as he was concerned, anyone who assumed with those two deserved whatever they got.

Taran waved his partner's words away. "I say we remove Number JD910, dump him as a failure, and match Number 928TX with someone more suitable. There are plenty of decent telepaths, or telekinetics, or even an empath; anything!" His partner fought the wave of annoyance at having his talent slandered.

"How is the drug therapy going?" Short hair shook quickly.

"No success yet. We have a sedative that works in the short term, keeps him down for a few minutes. Steady, low doses seem to be partially effective, keep him relaxed. Otherwise… He either goes completely out of control until it wears off or goes into a coma-like state, unresponsive and unusable. We had to interfere twice to keep Farfarello from killing Schuldig and we don't believe he can tell the difference between ally and opponent. We're still experimenting with different types and concentrations but it doesn't look good." A quick glance to the side at his partner. "His metabolism is very high, he burns through everything quickly. Sometimes almost too fast for it to take effect."

The man behind the desk hummed and closed his eyes. "Darias. You're referring to them by names. These are names they chose themselves?"

"Yes Sir, sorry Sir. They won't answer to anything else. Farfarello, I mean Number 928TX, ignores anything else and we believe he named Number JD910, because he answered to his number before they met." The empath stepped closer, resting his hands lightly on the desk. "Please, Sir, these boys will be the rise of the new order, part of the history of our new regime."

"A seer now?" A sharp smirk and the pale brunette stepped back, aware he'd overstepped; annoyance at the slight of his second, minor talent was hidden carefully. "The only thing I've seen around those two are destruction and chaos." Hardring settled back, eyes closed again in thought. "Remove Number JD910 for a month, try to match Number 928TX with someone else. If you can't, put them back together and train them. I expect you two to get that boy up to standards soon. Dismissed."

Both men nodded and backed out of the office; a hard hand punched the empath in the arm. "What the fuck? You know I hate that little shit but you still stood there and tried to talk Hardring into keeping him."

"I think they could be great, some of the best. They're a perfect match, the first we've had as a team and you want to break them up!" A small hand rubbed the offended area of his shoulder. "Quit being so personal and think; if we can get them trained, we move up and out of here. We might even get assigned to a team!" His partner huffed and started to stalk away. ::Taran.:: A light brush at the shields, the thought aimed perfectly from years of practice.

The telepath stopped and sighed, shoulders relaxing in defeat. ::Fine. But I'm trying to match Number 928TX with someone else first. If it doesn't work, we'll do it your way.::

A soft smile and gentle brush at the shields accompanied the pink cheeks. "Thank you."

Taran groaned to himself and turned his back on his softer partner. 'How the fuck did you survive training?'

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::Far, wait.:: Short hair tilted as he listened to the thoughts swirling outside the door. ::Don't eat everything, keep some for later.:: The blond watched as the smaller boy folded his ration into a piece of cloth and stashed it carefully.

::I'm hungry.:: One of his knives flashed, darting down to brush against the delicate hand that reached for his share.

Schuldig sighed and sat back, leaning against the wall. ::I know, but they're going to try to starve you, see if they can control you that way.:: A discontent grunt but half the tray was nudged over to be wrapped and stored.

No one came to take them to training and they spent the day wrestling and practicing their aim. Hours passed and still nothing, no food, no training, just silence from the other side of the door and Farfarello was watching him carefully, keeping track of his movements, hunting him.

The telepath licked his lips and dug out a package of food, handing it over without a word. It vanished, leaving only crumbs and a little bun that was left in the center. "Go ahead, I'm not hungry." He didn't have time to regret it, the bread gone in seconds, and he smiled a bit, stretching out on the blankets.

A wiry body pressed to his side, letting him run his fingers through quickly growing hair; just past his ears and still as white and soft as snow. Sometimes, when they were like this, quiet and calm, he wondered if he loved Farfarello. But what did he know about love? His family, if you could call that lot of ragged whores a family, sold him to the first taker on the street for five pounds when his talent kicked in and he couldn't defend himself; when an operative walked in, they sold him for twice that without a thought either for him or his original buyer. Greedy bastards, he hoped they were all dead.

The only memories he retained, the only ones left to him, were of cold streets and hard hands slamming into his body, vicious words and mocking laughter at his size and hair; he vaguely remembered selling information to keep from selling himself, patches of thoughts slipping through, even before he had any idea of what he could become, before everything slammed into him. His best information, the stuff that bought him days off the street and a rare treat came from random passers by; the usual clients at the brothel he called home were nothing but the regular low class criminals, most not even bothering to hide their crimes.

A pleased nuzzle at his shoulder and he purred, low in his chest, attention brought back to his immediate line of thought. It wouldn't be too hard, really; when he was calm, he was almost sweet, patient with instructions, gentle hands wrapping cuts and bruises, and what else was there to want in a partner? Not to mention the blond was vicious and ruthless and that glow his eyes got when he lost himself to delusion made the redhead want to scream, shriek defiance at anyone and everyone. 'There's no one that can stand before us. We'll rip them all apart.'

three days later 

Still no food but training had started again, hard hours of weapons in particular but some class time, hours spent sitting in uncomfortable desks, staring at an instructor. This was where Schuldig took over, absorbing the boring material (maths and languages, chemistry and physics) quickly and sending the answers to his partner to copy down; across the room, in different rooms, watched by narrowed eyes, they cheated their way to the top of the class, same as with weapons. Farfarello's voice whispered instructions and the answers to questions of design and anatomy, rattling off make and model of any gun presented, balance of knives. The only place they were failing was in the psychic department, where Schuldig continued to test at barely a 14, Farfarello not at all.

The blond was losing weight steadily and his energy levels dropped off dramatically; Schuldig rummaged, hoping for something, anything to have been missed in the previous searches, coming up empty yet again. Amber was staring at him from under the blanket he'd tossed over the thin body to try and stop the shivering, a predatory gleam making him search harder.

The hit came more quickly than he anticipated, his ability to read the younger boy's moods overshadowed by the constant hunger. They tumbled, rolling across the floor in a flurry of kicking and flying fists, coming to rest against the back wall, cold seeping in around the edges of consciousness. "Farfarello!"

A pale nose rubbed along his neck, pink tongue following. 'Shit.' ::Farfarello, stop!:: A brief pause before the blond went back to tasting, sliding his tongue over a thin shoulder. ::Not there. Down, here.:: His neck and shoulder were too close to major veins, too dangerous; his hand brushed over his heart then across; if he couldn't stop it, then he could dictate where. ::Here.:: Short, well chewed nails followed his hand, trailing over soft skin, pushing the thin shirt collar down until his captive choked, then reversed direction, moving it up and over the bright hair.

::Guilt.:: Nothing more, the one word more than enough. Skinny arms wrapped around his neck and shoulders, the small body quivering and forcing itself to relax under him, under his mouth, sweat and salt sour on his tongue. Pale skin shuddered with each breath, fear and a trembling trust laid out before him.

Strong teeth sank into the bit of flesh, ripping a bit to bring blood to a rich flow. A soft whimper as he lapped, careful not to miss any, and a shaking hand slid through his hair, petting lightly. He started to purr, curling his body into the smaller one, and was hugged, soft cries of pain weaving in his ears. When he felt thick fluid start to slow his head lifted, lips bright with crimson, eyes bright with the thrill of attack.

Schuldig stared at his creature, this boy so excited by feeding he could rip him apart for more, and realized he really had tied his life to him. And maybe, he truly did love him, because who else could he lie under as they drank his blood, the only thing he truly owned. ::Still hungry?::

::Yes.:: White skin flexed as he pulled away, licking the sluggishly bleeding wound gently before nuzzling his nose against the more pert one. ::Hungry?:: The amber eyes were glowing faintly and energy hummed through the formerly listless body wriggling against him.

::Not that hungry.:: A hint of a laugh and he ran a hand over his chest and trailed it over his stomach, covering it in red. ::Shall I bring you food?:: Because Farfarello would eat anything, might as well have a bit of revenge with his meal. A bright grin and he pushed to his feet, swaying for a second from hunger and blood-loss.


	3. Chapter 3

Aaannnddd chapter 3. I am on a major roll here and hopefully chap 4 will be done fairly quickly.

Chapter 3

There was a series of thuds and screams from the locked room and the guard looked over, faintly interested. They'd been quiet for two days, going to class, returning in silence, then spending the rest of the day laying on the floor quietly. 'Bet the psycho finally snapped.'

A shrill cry and terrified green eyes stared at him out the window, a small, blood covered hand planted on the glass. ::Help me! Please, he's starving, please, help me!:: Weak, weaker than usual; the redhead was a chatterbox some days and liked to make conversation, like he was normal or something.

As used to seeing disgusting things as he was, letting the boy be eaten alive was a bit much. A quick scan showed the blond on the other side of the cell, knife in hand, stalking the long away around, taunting his prey; a fast call was made for assistance as the hunter sprang forward. Bloody fingers trailed across the window as the smaller boy ran, sobbing loudly in the guard's head.

'Fuck.' He couldn't just stand there, he had orders to make sure they didn't kill each other, but he certainly didn't want to go in there. A loud scream signaled the redhead was caught, struggling wildly under the strong body. 'Shit, shit, shit.'

He coded the door and slid in to unlock and enter the inner room, gun up. Bright hair flashed, almost as brilliant as the grin sent to him; a gasp was choked out as he turned to meet yellow eyes directly behind him. He didn't have a chance to bring his gun up, to fight, anything, before the knife slit his throat in a clean line, sending blood spattering over the walls and floor, a giggle of delighted triumph the last thing he heard as he fell.

Backup arrived minutes later, guns drawn, talents tensed. Farfarello was on the floor, inhaling thick muscle delightedly while Schuldig watched from their nest, arms around his knees. Confused yelling and Darias shoved through, forcing his way to the front, Taran directly behind him. Disgust was clear and traced the pale faces behind them, just behind the fear. "Farfarello." He didn't even flinch, taking no notice of being addressed. "Schuldig, what happened?"

"He's starving." Cool green watched the older men, fingers twisting together. "I'm starving. You didn't really think he would survive three days without food, did you?"

"Without food? Your meal records are filled out. You haven't missed any of seven daily meals for a month." A light step was taken closer, hands spread; Taran started to stop him, then pulled back, fondling his gun.

"Liar." That got Farfarello's attention, ears almost perked at his favorite indiscretion. "We haven't been fed for nearly four days, twenty six missed meals." The redhead shifted position, stomach growling a bit; he'd missed twenty seven and hadn't eaten much of their first.

Darias examined the half naked boy, the still trickling wound, then waved behind to his partner. "Taran, we need some food here, please. And send the team away, we don't need them." His gaze turned to the blood covered blond watching him with glowing eyes. "Farfarello, come away. We'll get you real food in a minute. Can you wait until then?"

A skim of thoughts, butterfly light, showed truth in the brunette's words, his confusion at their being denied meals plain, though hidden behind his mask. ::Far, come away. They're bringing something better.:: Cat eyes stared at him but apparently the blond's immediate hunger was sated and he crawled over to lay across the hollowed stomach, head resting in the curve of waist while he played with his knife, licking at the blood still dripping off.

Scarred fingers were dipped in red streaking the pale chest and held up to be licked clean; Schuldig stared at the brunette empath as he sucked both fingers into his mouth, flicking his tongue to capture the salty fluid; they were removed and dipped again, repeating until a pair of trays were carried in and set on the floor. A telepathic nudge sent the blond over to grab them and carry them back with the air of a hunter returning with meat, and his partner grinned at him before digging in, ripping the bread to pieces as he shoved cheese in his mouth.

"Careful, you'll be sick if you eat too quickly." Darias sat down at the edge of the blankets, folding his legs under him and patting the ground beside him for his partner to sit. Taran gave him a disbelieving look and stood over him, gun at his side. They watched the boys eat, noting that the best pieces ended up on Schuldig's plate, switched in a blur of motion with less appetizing bits. 'I wonder if he notices?'

The answer was yes, which became obvious as the redheaded teen picked carefully through his meal, eating about half the traded bits, picking until he was done then pushing his plate back over to the blond, waving the questioning sound away. Enough eaten to appreciate the effort, then returned. ::Told you, perfect match.:: The bit of gloating was rewarded with a nudge of heavy boot to his butt.

Sated eyes watched them from their spot in the redhead's lap, a lean sprawl of grace, delicate fingers twirling a knife idly. "What do you want?" Green watched them closely, a bit curious but mostly apathetic to his answer.

"When did they stop feeding you?" A low growl from the blond and he lifted a bit, stomach flexing; a delicate hand fluttered over pale skin and whispered through shoulder length hair, bringing him gently back down as Taran shifted, gun hand twitching.

"Breakfast and second meal four days ago. We saved some." A sharp grin. "Animal instinct. We ran out completely just over two days ago." They had many secrets but that wasn't one of them and he gave the information freely.

Short dark hair nodded. "Alright, I'll look into it. How did you get the guard in here?" A mocking giggle from the killer. "If you won't tell me, I can't help you. Taran and I are your assigned officers until you leave and we dictate how you are treated, trained. How did you get the guard inside against orders?"

Gold laughed at him, green just as mocking. "He was stupid. Thought Farfarello would eat me, attack me. Thought he could starve us into obedience." Thought he was actually interesting enough to talk to, but that was another issue. Dark eyes flicked to his chest and slim fingers trailed over the mark, following the torn crescent. "Gotta eat something."

Nothing showed on the pale face but the leg against his shoulder was tense; how close were these two? More so than they'd dreamed. They watched as pale eyes followed the fingers and chapped lips leaned up to press to the light blood trail, tongue flicking against delicate skin. "We'll be removing you from the cell, Schuldig, to work on your telepathy while Farfarello focuses on the physical aspect of training. It will only be for a month and you will be returned."

A hint of lie there, not quite the truth, but the fact that he would be returned was true, as well as the time frame. ::Farfarello, I'm going with him. I want to test against other telepaths, see where they are.:: He was fine, far ahead of where they thought he was, but it would be good to see what else was there, where their training stood.

::Fine. Bed.:: Which meant get rid of them so they could sleep off this meal.

"As you like. When? Tomorrow?" The older boy combed his fingers through the slightly greasy hair, vaguely distracted by the thought of a shower sometime soon; it had been a few days since their last one and they were due.

Darias took the hand that appeared by his shoulder and stood easily, flowing to his feet. "I'll be here after first meal." The older pair turned and walked out, not looking back even after the door was shut and locked behind them.

"What the fuck? I thought we were taking him now. Get this started." His smaller partner was walking rapidly down the hall, a hand waving him forward as they put distance between themselves and the cell.

"Didn't you see them? They would have come after us if we tried to separate them. Farfarello had three knives that I noticed and the one he was playing with, then anything I didn't see; did you notice that he was feeding Schuldig, making sure he got enough of the best?" Black hair nodded shortly, eyes narrowed. "He's courting him, looking after him. If Schuldig had said no or we tried to force it, he would have ripped us apart without a second thought." A soft smile, the one that Taran had learned wasn't nearly as delicate or gentle as it looked. "He'll come willingly in the morning and make everything much more simple. No more talking out loud near the cell, they can hear or sense it, whether it's Schuldig and his telepathy or Farfarello. We have to tell Hardring about someone trying to starve them and find out who." Another faint smile was tossed over his shoulder. "I doubt they'll let us off so easily next time whether we have anything to do with it or not."

'And you, my dear Taran, are destined to fail. You'll never break them up now, no matter what you do.'

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The first week away was easy, class in the mornings, physical and weapons training in the afternoons; sleep was the most difficult part and the redhead felt like a girl, missing the steady breathing and loud heartbeat. Contacting Farfarello proved impossible, only static answering him, no matter how long he stood and yelled. In the second week, he was placed in a practice group of other young men around his age.

A fast scan showed most of the boys to be self-proclaimed level 15 or 16 and he let the multitude of scans slip past his first shields to see who he was and lose interest. There were also several telekinetics practicing their control, spinning weapons and chairs, practicing with anything left out to play with. They all felt weak and he relaxed; he could take any of them easily if he had to, but it would be better to play at being weaker.

A sandy blond appeared beside him as he ran his hands over a set of knives, choosing one for himself. "Hi. Are you new here?"

"No." The small weapon turned between his fingers, rolling easily as he tested the heft and balance; he felt dark eyes on him and stared back.

"Where are you from?" A brief grin, and the impression of a puppy was given, all wriggly and eager to get to know you.

"Bassum." Which was obvious from his accent. Schuldig tried to move away from the annoyance but was followed.

"Really? Was it nice there? I hear England has beautiful landscapes." Thin shoulders rolled; as if he'd had a chance to stare at landscapes, even if he had grown up in England. He didn't bother to correct the blond, ignoring him as teams were set up and the sparring rules explained.

His lips tightened when he was paired with the annoying boy. "I'm a telekinetic, so you must be a telepath. What level are you? I'm a 16." A hint of bragging there and thin shoulders rolled again.

"Dunno." His knife rolled along his arm, balanced on a finger and flashed as he whirled to touch it to his temporary partner's neck.

There was a flare of anger in the dark eyes and Schuldig smirked to himself; not so friendly now, are we? "You have to know. You can't be that weak."

The redhead just turned away to watch the matches; two pairs, one weapon per person, no killing, no permanent damage. Most of the boys were fast and skilled with their weapon of choice but he could feel the lack of strength in their psychic control. At least compared to what he could do; long hours of practice in the minefield that was Farfarello's mind had honed his control and strengthened his manipulation skills.

Finally, their turn came up and they faced a pair of brunettes, obviously an experienced team from the way they moved together and stayed close, attacking at the same time. Schuldig didn't bother fighting a psychic battle, just shut his shields down firmly and attacked physically, zipping forward until he was captured and frozen in place

While he debated whether to just break the shaky hold, he felt his feet lift from the ground and was thrown through the air to slam into the surprised pair. Something sharp cut his cheek and blood flowed over his chin as he pinned them to the floor, hand on one neck, knife at the second; they were so shocked at the unorthodox attack, they just lay still. The match was called and he shifted to his feet.

His teammate was bent over laughing with a pair of boys, obviously friends, and he flew at them in a rage. A firm grip lifted him and sent him slamming into the wall until he collapsed on the floor, bleeding sluggishly. A quick trip to the medical ward and back to his room for the night.

'That little bastard, thinks he can fuck with me.' It took a few hours to find the blond's signature in the minimum security wing, where good behavior got a light lock, a decent bed, a single room, and a few personal possessions. He was just getting ready for bed when the redhead latched onto him and took over.

::Little fucker. Thought you could mess with me?:: Loud cursing was yelled at him. ::Yeah, 'cause I've never heard that before. Asshole.:: A hint of snark and a wide smirk. ::And Bassum is in Germany, not England. Idiot.:: A few minutes were spent exploring the books and a couple of pictures on a small shelf before the blond's hand reached out and tapped the door, turning the lock easily, and they bolted down the hall, avoiding the guards easily.

Ranting was ignored as the redhead searched out the signature he'd picked up from some of the smaller boys; an older teen, nineteen, more man than boy, and fond of virgins. The lock to his room opened quietly and they slipped in; shuffling from the bed and dark eyes watched them. "What?"

"Hi. I heard you liked virgins." Pink graced slightly round cheeks and a shoulder tilted with a flirtatious smile. "I thought maybe you'd like to relieve me of mine." A shriek from the background almost sent the telepath into gales of laughter but he restrained himself. "If you don't want to, I'm sure I can find someone else." Trim hips twisted a bit, drawing the thin cloth tight over them and his ass.

Large feet swung over the edge of the bed and the young man stood, showing he slept naked and the thoughts Schuldig had picked up were accurate; very accurate. Panic shoved at him and he giggled to himself. "Tired of it already, huh?" A huge hand cupped the blond's ass and pulled him close. "We can probably arrange for that little problem to be taken care of."

The hand placed on the wide chest looked like a doll's. "Can I make a request?" A raised eyebrow. "Could you tie me up? And gag me?" Red moved through soft cheeks and he stared at the floor, seemingly embarrassed.

"Bold, bold little virgin." But there was a grin in the words, and he stepped back to shred a sheet and tie the smaller boy's hands to the bed, stuffing a roll in his mouth. Rough fingers probed between tight cheeks, pulling the sleeping pants tight against the blond's stomach.

::I'm letting go now.:: The possibility of freedom sparked and he laughed nastily. ::Oh, right. Have to fix that, don't we?:: The link of talent and mind was pulled taut and snapped with a shriek; a wail of panic and pain nearly deafened him as he pulled away laughing.

It was the best night's sleep he'd had since he left Far's cell.

Morning came too quickly, with his blanket yanked away, tossing him to the floor. "Get up." Rough hands gripped his arm and dragged him through the halls to a brightly lit room and shoved him inside.

The blond from the day before was curled on the floor, his trainer kneeling beside him. "Number JD910, Number 54PF9 claims you took control of his mind and forced him to go to another student's room where you propositioned said student and left him to be raped, where he was found this morning." The cold voice came from a table near the far side of the room. "Is this true?"

"No." A quick cuff to the back of his head sent him stumbling forward. "No, sir. I can't do that."

"Are you saying you're too weak to here?"

"No, sir. I can't force people to do something they are opposed to, I can only bring hidden desires to the fore, encourage people to do as they secretly want." Practically a textbook answer, straight from his classes.

Dark eyes looked him over then nodded. "He's lying. Tie him up." A scream of rage and the redhead ducked the hands that reached for him and bolted forward to slam his foot into the curled body on the floor before the kneeling instructor shoved him backwards.

"You little bastard! I'll fucking get you for this!" Strong arms lifted him and carried him to the back of the room to tie his hands to a ring in the ceiling. ::Just wait. You thought that was bad?:: Frightened images of the nineteen year old calling others in to enjoy his new toy made him laugh viciously. ::I'll turn you over to the greatest sadist this place has ever seen and he'll enjoy you for years. I won't let you die. Never ever.::

"Get out! Get out, get out, get out!" Broken sobs made the words almost unintelligible and his trainer dove into the damaged mind, trying to track the culprit. Schuldig pulled back quickly, brushing his tracks away carefully, not leaving even the faintest mark of presence.

The blond was swept up at a wave from the man at the desk and carried out with a glare at the redhead. He stuck his tongue out childishly before his attention was drawn to the whip that was lifted from the table. "As soon as you admit it, I'll stop."

"I didn't! I can't!" His protests were cut short by the first strike of a half dozen strips of leather to his stomach. His teeth gritted to contain the cries that eventually escaped, growing to screams as he bled; when his stomach was too bloody to see, they turned him and continued, constantly repeating that if he just admitted it, it would be over. When his legs gave and he collapsed, his shoulder ripped from its socket and he shrieked even louder. When his voice gave, he screamed in his mind until he passed out; cold water rinsed him off and woke him so they could start again.

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"Well?" Darias bounced across the room, robe falling open as he leaned over to take the letter from his partner. "What does it say?"

The paper was held out of reach and he was tugged into the taller man's lap. ::It was denied.:: Strong arms wrapped around the frozen form as the smile dropped away.

::What?:: The letter was snagged and read silently, slim shoulders shaking, the shivering rustling the paper between his hands as his partner hugged him tightly. ::No. No, we filled out all the forms, we qualify!:: An angry, choked sob. ::We qualify!::

Taran just held on, waiting it out; there was nothing to say, they did qualify and they were still denied the transfer. Twenty three years here, first as students then as instructors, and it was wearing on them both. Especially as they got older and had fewer and fewer chances to be placed with a team. Darias had been so sure they would be approved this time, and was so disappointed, it wouldn't hurt to be gentle for a few minutes.

::Those fucking bastards.:: Ice in the usually soft voice and he stared up at the nearly black eyes, mesmerized. ::We will have revenge for this.:: The older man couldn't help himself, lips seeking the soft ones in a bruising kiss, nipping roughly at the aggressive tongue.

A light knock and a young guard was called in, blushing sharply at their morning lack of dress. Number JD910's indiscretion was reported and Darias hopped up to get dressed while Taran sent a message back that they'd be there in a few minutes.

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"Good morning, Sir." Dazed green cracked open at the familiar voice; his vision swayed tauntingly for a minute then focused enough to see his trainer standing in the door, hands clasped behind his back and head bowed politely. "Are you finished? May we take him?" It occurred to the redhead that there hadn't been a strike for a couple of minutes; his body throbbed and he couldn't tell when exactly the beating had stopped.

A solid thump when the handle of the whip hit the table was followed by the wet slide of blood covered leather. "No. One last test." The guard at his back was motioned forward and faced the teen. "Shoot him." The metal of the gun was a dull color and it wavered in Schuldig's vision, an uncertain target. "You have ten seconds. If he kills you, you didn't deserve to be here."

A slow blink and a second was gone; it would be so easy to just have him shoot himself, but it would show too much strength. Look weak, look weak, little bit by bit and seconds were counting away; a more firm touch was needed and he stepped into the man's head, pulling and pushing the gun away, just over his shoulder would be alright, that would be good.

"Ten." No, it was still pointed at him and he froze up for an instant; long enough to feel the trigger tighten under a thick finger, to hear the crack in two sets of ears, feel gunpowder residue burn his broken skin, a sharp stinging pain before the bullet struck, flinging his body back like a puppet before he was dragged back to his own body, screaming with a throat too raw to make a sound and crying from eyes too dry for tears.

Flashes of clarity, random and disjointed; the tap of fingers on the dark wood table, mutters from an unseen man, Darias' knees giving before a firm hand and strong shields steadied him, the bright spray of his blood on the wall as he twirled helplessly, Taran's face swimming over his, low voice in his ear, and the most oddly memorable, Darias' lips tilting in a victorious smile.

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::Taran.:: The tall brunette stomped away, refusing to turn around and his partner ran after him to grab at his sleeve. ::Taran, just listen!::

::No! This is treason, thinking it is treason!:: The older man whirled to glare down at his smaller partner.

::Please, all I'm asking is for you to delete this for me.:: Puppy eyes stared back, big and liquid, helpless and begging for protection. ::Don't you love me?::

Rage boiled and he slapped at the small hand on his jacket. ::Don't you fucking dare! Don't you dare try to make this about us! This is about you and your revenge.::

The injured hand was pulled back and cradled against the thin chest, shoulders hunched. ::You're right.:: Sniff; oh fuck, not tears. ::You should be more concerned with the company than with me. After all, I'm just the partner they stuck you with. You should turn me in, maybe you'll get a better one next time.::

Strong teeth ground silently as Taran clenched his hands into fists. 'Fucking empaths.' The guilt was nearly overwhelming him and it was worse because he knew Darias wasn't using his talent. ::Come on.:: He grabbed a slender wrist and jerked his smaller partner behind him to their room. ::You're sure?::

::Yes.:: No hesitation. ::He's strong, stronger than even you, and together, they're unstoppable. Those two, they'll rip this place apart. They'll take our revenge for us.:: The glow of a fanatic shone up at him, lighting dark eyes in an unholy light, and it was almost worth it to make that look go away; this wasn't his partner, his partner didn't look crazed like that. His partner was sneaky and quiet, looked out for them first, Taran second, himself third and fuck anyone else.

A deep shuddering breath. ::Close your eyes.:: Because he'd never finish if he had to watch memories fade; it wouldn't be just thoughts of those little brats, but time they'd spent, things they'd done together. Shields dropped and he started to work, dredging every little hint of strength, any little inconsistencies out of his conscious mind and destroying them; deeper to the subconscious where he stepped lightly and pulled anything of relevance, shredding them too.

When it was done, dark eyes opened, a gorgeous smile flashed, and the small form collapsed in his arms with a sigh. 'When did I get so weak?' Maybe it was the slender waist, the cutting wit, and the big eyes that had captured him the first time they met, in one of a series of meetings to find a match, the way all unmatched talents not on teams were paired; or maybe it was everything, the entire package he couldn't imagine living without. His lips tucked up at the memory of their introduction; they'd chatted for the hour they had together, then both had requested to be placed together on the same day, their forms arriving in the same shipment.

His smile fell away at the thought that he might have erased that memory with the others and he set to work on himself, tucking the memories so deeply in his mind and under enough shields that he wouldn't be able to get back to them. When it was done, he lay down and curled around the still body, breathing in the faint cinnamon scent that trailed his partner everywhere.

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Please review, even if you don't like it. Just so I know people are reading! Thanks.


	4. Chapter 4

Wow, ok, so that took a long time. My apologies. I'm finally done all the rest of my stuff, so I can focus on this a bit more and it won't, hopefully, be months between updates. So, please enjoy what I have today, review so I know you did (or didn't), and as always, thank you for reading.

Chapter 4

Farfarello was bored with no one to play with and wandered his cell quietly for a bit. He played a game with the new guard, stalking him around the intermediate room; the man was so scared he almost wet himself and the blond fell from his perch above the door laughing. The outer door slammed and there was a clear thump from the other side as the large man's legs gave out. Just to scare him more, he behaved for an hour or two then hid, sliding along the walls soundlessly until he could pop up and look straight into searching eyes, sending the watcher stumbling back in a flurry of curses.

To amuse himself, he hauled out his knives and sharpened them then practiced dexterity on both arms. One of the cuts resembled a cross and he set off on one of his rants, scrawling passages on the walls in blood, voice raised in an accented song. Once he wore down, he noticed two meals waiting for him and ate quickly before a nap.

The white coated people came just past his final meal and he played catch with them for a little; just to tease, he sliced an assistant's arm open but quieted when his favorite doctor arrived. She was a pretty honey blond in her mid-twenties who never flinched, even when he attacked her or cut himself and smeared blood on her; he tried to behave decently for her so he'd have another chance to make her jump.

A little blue pill was presented and he opened his mouth, nipping the fingers that were too slow to avoid him. A pretense of swallowing was made and got tightened lips and a wave for him to hurry up. White shook quickly and he refused to give it back when it was demanded. "Fine. Keep it. I'm still giving you this." A needle was prepared and he let them swab his arm with alcohol, which tickled, and slide the hollow metal into his skin.

The assistants at his arms tightened their grips as his head rolled back and his hands started to clench and released uncontrollably; his supper was thrown up and he started to seize within a minute of the dose. An annoyed sigh and the sedative was given; as it worked, his legs gave and he was dropped to the floor, the assistants getting away as soon as possible.

The bags were repacked and the doctor crouched beside him. "I'm gonna get you. I'll figure it out and you'll do as I say." Manicured nails scratched his head and got a soft groan in response. "You'll see."

Brisk steps had her at the door when silver flashed by her face and buried in the wall, a lock of blond bang drifting to her shoulder. Her hand rose to touch her cheek and came away bloody. When she looked back, he was propped on his side, knife in hand; her chin tilted in defiance, refusing to allow him to scare her. "Not even you can destroy what God hath wrought. Only once He is dead and rotted can I be taken." The cool look faded, replaced by a child's smile, innocent and sweet. "See you next time."

Shudders raced down her back and she turned abruptly and stomped out, coding the door with an annoyed flick of her hand. Half way down the hall, her legs collapsed and she had to practice breathing on the floor. She canceled the order for a bath and left the boy in his dirty cell for the night; a petty punishment, and one he wouldn't be bothered by, but it made her feel better, avenged.

Experiments were put off until a new formula could be prepared and a mild sedative was placed in all meals and eaten without issue; physical lessons moved forward and took priority over everything else on the training schedule. For the most part, he was sweet, malleable, and relaxed and everyone stayed as far away as possible, wanting only to not be around when the explosion hit.

He wouldn't sit still in a classroom with others, throwing things, babbling to himself, or harassing anyone within reach, and was finally separated in another room. Math was a failure, given up when he started copying equations on his arms with needles, physics and chemistry ended the same way, and history was down right embarrassing when he fell asleep and couldn't be woken up; Taran almost burst a blood vessel when he had to go and get his charge. The blond refused to write the language test, sitting quietly until his time was up and doodling on the test sheet and table. Darias slipped in to give him an update on Schuldig while Taran was busy yelling at the exam coordinator; the news was met with bland indifference.

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"Number 928TX." Nothing, not even a flinch from the blond, who was sprawled out on the floor, scribbling quietly. He'd stolen a pencil from somewhere and made a huge fuss about paper, even attacking an instructor for his note pad; the deal of one piece earned for each perfect shot was made to keep him calm.

There was a tidy stack of pictures arranged beside the pile of blank sheets and it was all Darias could do not to smile whenever he saw them. Taran was having fits over spoiling the blond and was determined he was just acting up to get what he wanted; his partner refrained from pointing out that yes, that is what children do, especially if it works. Farfarello's acting up was just a bit more dangerous than most.

Taran gritted his teeth and made the effort not to squeeze the slim arm in his hand. "Farfarello. Come here." That got a peek of light eyes over the white clothed shoulder and the blond bounced up to come over and poke the girl the older man was holding. "This is Number 7JW29. She's your new partner."

Another poke and he turned away, walking over to sit down on the floor, back turned. "Where is Guilt?"

"He's gone. This is your partner now." His face was left carefully blank. The first time the brat spoke to him and it was to ask after that pest. "There's no training today, get used to each other and you can start tomorrow."

He was ignored and patted the brunette on the back, nudging her forward before he let himself out. She took a few hesitant steps forward, waiting for a sign she was, or wasn't, welcome. A little under 5'5, with close cropped hair and a just rounding figure, she'd been chosen because of her talent, a high 16 telepathic healer with the potential to go much further, and her maturing body, in the hopes that she would be able to get close to the unstable blond.

"He, hello." Another step closer and he didn't look up, scribbling a passage along the top of his picture. "I'm training to be a doctor. So, ah, do you want to see my things?" The small bag she clutched in her hands was opened and she sat on the floor behind him, pulling out bottles of oils, painkillers, bandages, disinfectants, and a few other loose ends and bits she'd collected. The soft clink of things lining up drew the blond's attention and he watched from the corner of his eye as she pulled out a book; it was grabbed immediately and he scooted away to look at the pictures, flipping through quickly.

She followed and sat beside him, pointing out interesting facts and adding little pieces of information not listed. His attention started to wander after a few minutes and he crawled back over to draw more. Again, she followed. "What are you drawing?"

"Victory." His pencil flashed, adding detail and filling in shades. There were two boys, one clearly recognizable as Farfarello, the other unfamiliar with long dark-shaded hair, Guilt maybe, standing on a mountain of corpses. The blond was balancing in cupped hands and being lifted to what appeared to be a cloud, fuzzy and unformed.

Her hand reached out to touch and he growled, low and deep in his chest; she yanked her hand away hastily. No other sound, no objection to her looking, so she examined the rest of the picture; the passage scrawled across the top was too messy to read but the rest was a bit fanciful, if gory with the mountain of corpses and broken bodies littered around the base. Until she noticed the face he was filling in looked a lot like her and she scrambled away, banging on the door. "They won't come. They don't care about you."

He was suddenly behind her, hands on her cheeks, nose tucked into the base of her neck. Shivers ran down her spine and tingled in her fingertips as he licked soft skin and tested his teeth lightly on her shoulder. A panicked push sent her sliding through the flimsy shields and she struggled in the swirling red, feeling it sucking her down as she clawed through; it wasn't so much a sound as a feeling of popping past the barrier and she fell to her knees on a soft hill.

Dark hair jerked around so she could see the flow of land and soft grass, her fingers digging into the slightly moist ground. This was strange, like a fairy tale picture with green and blue streaks mixing with red in the sky; she couldn't say it was disorganized, just, blank. No memory storage system, no thoughts, no emotions, nothing but a perfect picture.

A boy with dark hair, slender, a smaller, younger version of Farfarello suddenly stood over her, staring down. ::Who are you?::

Slow movements and she stood, brushing her pants to buy time. ::Are you, Farfarello?:: Soft laughter, childlike, and a small finger pointed upwards.

::No. He's up there.:: Dark hair tilted to stare at the sky, watching a white haired teen drop to stand before her, the small brunet form fading behind him. Were there two personalities? It would explain rumors of sudden, inexplicable rages, the contrasting sweetness he showed from time to time, and the way he randomly reacted to mentions of God, religion, faith, pretty much anything even vaguely related. Or that he deemed related.

A hard hand gripped her chin and dark gold glared at her. ::Who are you? I did not say you could come here!::

Her hand slapped his away and her chin lifted. ::You know who I am. I am your partner and you can call me 7J.:: Dark brown met the angry yellow. ::I do not need your permission to come here, I am strong enough to do as I like.::

The slightly pointed chin was grabbed again and she knew instinctively she'd never break this hold. ::Are you my friend?::

Thick lashes moved rapidly. What should she say? They said he hated liars but what would be the truth::I would like to be.::

::Why?::

::Because you are strong and I am strong. The strong should be placed together, and I do not want anyone weak near me.:: She mirrored her mental body with her physical, lifting her arms to touch his hands, tugging them gently down to her shoulders. A twist of her body brought them close and they brushed together; a hint of surprise from the blond when she moved her hips against his, feeling the half hard length between his legs. ::What do you want to be my friend?::

If it was sex, she'd done worse. And at least he was reasonably cute. His lips were chapped and she licked quickly to help soften them under hers. Sharp teeth nipped firmly and blood trailed over her tongue; a firm shove and she pounded a small fist against his chest. ::No! No biting, you have to be gentle.:: Her hands moved his down her sides to her hips. ::Girls like it when you are gentle.::

There was a pause and she thought he might ignore her; a soft touch of lips to her collar made her smile and she ran her fingers through his hair. ::Yes, just like that.::

No rush of desire but a slow burn of curiosity and interest washed over her as gentle hands slipped over her sides again, running up and down to settle at soft hips. Light kisses were shared, 7J licking a line up his neck to nibble at a delicate ear. How he could be so slender and fragile looking and have such a reputation was baffling but his body was all lean angles and thin limbs. Her fingers ran over his chest and counted each rib on the way down to tickle the flat stomach.

A slow squirm brought them closer together, chests touching, the boy's hands skimming her hips and ass, wiggling under her clothes to touch soft skin. She arched into his touch, encouraging the gentle hands. Her fingers slid into his pants, trailing the lean erection, young body eager under her experienced touch.

7J pulled away long enough to reach for her oils, digging out an anesthetic of clove to spread over his hands. He stared at them for a moment, curious before they were placed at her thighs, eased up the inside to touch soft folds. The oil made it tolerable, even a bit pleasant for him to explore her, dipping inside while they kissed, tongues mimicking what was to come.

Clothes were shrugged off in a heap and she stepped towards the nest. He growled and pulled her back, pushing the slender body to the cold floor. She kicked him and dragged at their discarded clothes to put at least once barrier between her skin and the icy cement. They rolled, pushing and kicking at each other until they came to rest with the blond on his back, hands gripping slender hips firmly, trim thighs straddling his stomach

The light of battle lust was beginning to overtake the physical lust and the brunette moved quickly, licking a trail from his lips to a flat nipple, sucking gently until it peaked. Its owner arched and moved restlessly under her but didn't attack or try to move her. A smirk was hidden but triumph flared as she scooted backwards to rock their hips together.

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"Where are they?" Taran stomped around the room terrorizing the aide and riffling through folders and pages on the desks. "Where are those files? I sent for them an hour ago!"

"I, I don't know, Sir. I just got here, I" The telepath gripped the front of his coat and lifted him until his toes barely touched the floor.

The tall brunet sneered down. "I don't give a shit. Find them."

::Taran.:: Argh, not him. That was all he needed today. ::The files are in the second drawer on the left.:: The door opened behind him and he ignored it to stomp over and dig out his folders. That little know it all.

Darias stood at the window watching quietly and his partner came to stand beside him, smirking as he flipped through charts and notes. ::Ha, he likes her.:: A slender shoulder rolled beside his and he nudged the thin side with an elbow. ::Looking good for my girl. Even if they don't match, he's decent breeding stock, don't you think?::

The smaller brunet watched quietly for a minute. ::Taran, I think you should pull her as soon as they're done.::

::What? Hell no, they're perfect.:: Darias didn't look at him, even when the older man turned to face him. ::What makes you think we should take her out?::

Dark eyes cut to him and a shoulder rolled again. ::Something feels off. I really think you should take her out. You can always put her back, right?::

The telepath looked down at his partner and considered for a minute. ::I don't think anything is wrong.:: He still ordered a team to be on call and double checked his guns. If Darias was being paranoid, well, then he was, but if he was right… It didn't hurt to be ready.

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The two teens lay quietly, relaxed. Soft words were mumbled against her neck and 7J nudged him back to hear. "Shouldn't lie." Teeth pressed to her skin in a wide smile. "Liars go to hell."

His shields were back in place, blocking her foray into his mind, showing only lazy swirls of red. "I didn't lie." A solid push and the shields… held? They weren't this strong before, she got through easily last time, what was going on?

Pressure at her throat cut her air off abruptly and he laughed down at her. "You came here to steal from me." The other hand trailed over her stomach, short nails scratching soft skin. "I won't let you, I'll take it back before you can lie and destroy it." Whimpers and panicked panting accompanied the struggling but a blade appeared in his hand, running over the quivering tummy. His mouth covered hers as he cut deeply, swallowing the shriek, ignoring the sharp nails that dug into his sides and back.

Voices came from outside and he sank his hand into the warm, blood slicked cavern, digging quickly as the door slammed open and a team of six burst in, guns up. "Back off!" He dug deeper, searching with quick fingers. "Fuck, just shoot him."

Shots scattered at the place where he'd been, just barely hitting him as he bolted backwards, blood from 7J and himself flying in thick droplets. "Cease fire. Get her out of here." Two guards jumped to lift the limp body and rush her to the medical ward to be put back together. The other four guns remained steady, Taran in the front waving the others back as he moved towards them, sliding his feet carefully backwards.

Yellow was glowing at him, staring straight into his soul, silver flashing between thin fingers from three knives, an endless cycle; not even the two grooves in his shoulder and thigh were enough to slow the silent, graceful pacing. One, two, three steps, turn, back three steps, turn; it was hypnotic and wrong and he slid deep, taking a firm grip on the bubbling mind.

Red waves moved under his feet and a child reached up, laughing, a twin to the original Number 928TX who had arrived bound and so drugged it took four days for him to just be able to think, never mind focus or stand. Chains captured the small form immediately and tightened sharply. ::Enough. I'll break you completely if I have to.:: The physical body froze mid-step, balancing delicately while the mental image shrieked and fought, growing stronger as the seconds passed, and Taran gritted his teeth and fought back.

More power was shoved into the links and the boy throbbed with his rage, body nearly pulsing with barely restrained power. Taran suddenly had the feeling he wouldn't get out of here. "Everyone out." The guards were already at the door but he could hear Darias, oh god, Darias, still moving behind him, close, close, too close, get out, go, go.

Laughter from the still blond and he looked into the pale eyes and saw his death snickering at him. The mental image of the brunet was no longer fighting and the red world went still, the soft rush of waves vanished, the thick brush of fluid dissolving into a crystal clear silence. The crimson sky seemed to darken slightly and dark hair moved frantically as Taran tried to see what was happening.

::You are rude.:: A low voice, past the high pitch of teenage years, masculine and clearly adult. And coming from behind and above him.

He whirled and stared in shock, mouth working. A man, with short, spiky white hair, scars on his face and hands, stood before him; Farfarello. He could think of no other name, certainly not his number, that was for the child, and this, this was what he would become. A patch covered one eye and he only wore leather pants, leaving his chest bare and smooth except for a few small scars. ::You are not allowed here.:: He didn't move but Taran choked, a hard grip on his throat.

::Release me.:: The brunet refused to back down and didn't reach for his throat, breathing shallowly and staring straight at the blond.

Thin lips tipped viciously. ::As you will.:: His uncovered eye closed and the telepath felt pressure shoving him through the red world and barriers, slamming him back into his own body. For a second, the gun dipped then came back up, facing the still laughing blond.

The boy took a step to the side, then back, bouncing in place. "Bring me Guilt." The knife touched his skin and it parted instantly from shoulder across to a thin hip. Blood welled and was flicked at the tall brunet.

"Guilt is gone." A step back, then another, if he could just get closer to the door, Darias would stay behind him and they might get out.

The red covered knife flashed to land between his feet. "You shouldn't lie." A bright smile and another knife was juggled lightly. "He won't love you anymore if you lie." The second knife was thrown and Taran ducked to the side; unnecessary, it was too far to the left to hit him and a soft gasp from behind him told him the target.

A quick look showed a small cut on his partner's bicep and he growled. 'You little bastard.' He took an involuntary step forward and immediately realized his mistake when the blond darted forward, weapon up. ::Darias, go!:: Maybe, maybe he could buy enough time for the younger man to get out.

One shot, then two were squeezed off but the boy was too fast, movements unpredictable, impossible to hit. Taran's senses sharpened and he felt everything slow, details bright; the sharp grin and amber eyes, the brush of cloth as his arms moved in an effort to track, the faint tap of Darias' foot behind him, warm cinnamon breath sliding over his cheek and a strong hand on his shoulder, shoving him in a turn. The perfect black of Darias' eyes sent a jab of panic down his back as he spun and tried to track the moving body again.

Time sped up again, the crack of a shot over his shoulder deafening him just before the white and crimson blur slammed into his partner, rolling them to the floor to end with the blond straddling slim hips, the empath's weapon hand trapped between a hard hand and the cement floor, knife already cutting delicate skin at the pale throat. The pair stared at each other as the older brunet took aim; a perfect shot and his fingers started to squeeze the trigger. ::Don't shoot!::

"Why?" Soft, a bit of lilt in the young voice, and wide eyes looked up, pupils swallowing the iris. The empath could feel the rage being tamped down and focused on controlling himself, speaking quietly to answer the question.

"Because. He is my partner." A questioning sound and the younger male shifted his weight, moving further up the slender body to touch noses and stare at the dark eyes. "It's what you do, when you have a perfect partner. You can't live without them."

White tilted, noses still touching, long lashes fluttering softly, tangling with Darias'. "What?" The bloodlust was fading quickly, washing away under curiosity and the brunet felt his fading as well, felt himself come down and back to his own emotions.

A slight smile and his free hand waved to Taran, who slid closer, careful to keep his gun pointed at the blond head at an angle that he would miss Darias. Probably. Hopefully. "It's a talent empaths have. I can feel emotions, change them, manipulate them, use them. Temporarily feed off them as energy, fuel for my own." Slow blinking and the close face pulled away, knife steady as his legs flexed to bring him to his feet.

Quiet steps took him to his nest and he ran his fingers over the bedding, touching his favorite blanket lightly; Schuldig's favorite blanket, the one he always insisted was his and that he wasn't sharing. "Partner." He looked back the pair standing by the door, Taran's arm around the smaller man's waist and raised his last knife to his face. "Bring me Guilt." The blade bit deeply of his cheek and struck upwards, slashing over his left eye and through his eyebrow; blood gushed, flooding his vision and flowing over his chin and chest.

The empath reached to him but his partner pulled him back with one arm, fumbling in his pocket for a handkerchief. The soft blue cloth was tossed to the blond and he dragged his resisting partner away, ignoring the struggles and slamming the door behind them. "Taran, he needs help, we have to" A hard kiss stopped the words and in the shocked silence that followed, they were through the outer door and locking it behind them.

"No. He'll tie it off and if he loses it, he does." His legs finally gave, leaving the pair sprawled on the floor, the smaller hugged tightly enough to cut off his air. ::Why didn't you leave? You little idiot, you know it's dangerous to do that.:: He could have lost him.

::I can't leave you behind, Taran, you know that. And I may as well lose myself protecting you as watch you die.:: Gentle fingers trailed through the short hair and the empath pushed lightly, letting happiness at being alive and affection move through their link.

Loud throat clearing indicated they weren't alone and they looked up to see the guards lined up along the hall and their supervisor watching them. "What is going on here?"

The pair on the floor looked at each other; covered with Farfarello's blood, Darias bleeding sluggishly from his neck and arm, hands shaking, and then looked back up. Taran pushed himself up, leaning on the wall. "Sir, I would like to retract my prior statements. If Number 928TX can be controlled by Number JD910, put them together. Otherwise, I strongly suggest he be put down." There was a faint protest from the man at his feet, struggling to get up but his coat was caught under his older partner's foot and the smaller form couldn't move. "There is something seriously wrong with him, his mind is too twisted to use and I'm not sure it can be broken. At least not by us."

"Careful what you say. I might mistake it for a lack of faith in the organization." The oldest officer took a step forward and checked the window to the cell. "He's fine now." Farfarello was curled in his blanket, eye wrapped in the blue handkerchief, and Hardring turned back. "Keep trying. There are still three weeks left before your deadline. I want him matched. Use stronger talents, 18 or above."

A small fist slammed down on Taran's foot, hard enough for a soft crunch to be heard and Darias scrambled to his feet when the offended body part lifted to shake a bit. "Sir, there are only four student 18's here and two are already matched. Anything higher is already paired and are instructors. There isn't anyone to match him with!"

"Break the pairs. I want him matched by the end of the week." Before they could protest again, he turned and strode down the hall, his straight back daring them to come after him.

::Shit, Taran, if we do this, his training alone will break Rosenkreuz. And, breaking pairs? What about you?::

::I think we've already established he won't take to me. Or you, for that matter. So. We start with the unmatched ones and work our way up.:: Out loud, he started giving orders for a full team to be on standby in three hours and for his first choice to be ready. ::We'll do as we were told and keep as many alive as possible. In the meantime, you go look after those cuts and check on Number JD910. We'll need him by the end of the month.::

Dark eyes stared up at him, filled with worry and uncertainty. ::Alright. Be careful, ok?:: A tuck of a smile. ::I won't be there to save you again.:: A faint laugh and a large hand rubbed his head before giving him a push towards the medical ward.

The sedative dose was increased, doubled per meal. The telekinetic male they sent in first forced the lock and bolted; they dragged him back and he settled in a corner near the door, completely ignored until it was time to eat. Then the blond was vaguely interested in him, calling him over with nice little waves and a soft voice before slicing a gash in his arm. The liquid was gathered in a bowl from his meal and used to paint with. They took the boy out.

A twenty year old telepath was next. She lasted almost an hour before they took her out, dazed and rambling vaguely in Gaelic, a language she hadn't known when she went in. The matched students were next, their partners waiting at the door anxiously to take them back to their rooms when they stumbled out, bleeding or crying.

Taran called it for the night and made a quick stop before heading back to the room he shared with Darias to find his partner passed out on the bed, maxed out on painkillers and sedatives.

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Long chapter this time but I couldn't find anywhere to cut it off properly. Oh well. Please review! Thank you.


	5. Chapter 5

Another one finished, and I'm almost done the next one too, so it shouldn't be too long. I hope. Thank you for reviewing, they're lovely. Please enjoy this next part. I'm working on redoing some parts, clearing up stuff, so bear with me and send me a message if you want to help. (please)

Chapter 5

"What the hell is he doing?" No matter where he stood, he couldn't quite make out what the blond was doing. The camera was useless, the boy having destroyed every one they put in within a few minutes of connection no matter where or how well it was hidden; to make it worse, the last thing recorded was always a little wave and a teasing grin.

A nervous aide shuffled beside him, hands twisting nervously. "I don't know, Sir, but he's been doing it since we checked on him at four."

"So no one knows when he began whatever he's doing. Wonderful." Sarcasm had the young man cringing. "Fine. Get a team ready, we're starting again."

"Yes, Sir, they're ready now. And Frin was notified yesterday that he would be up today."

'Not Frin. What a prick.' Dark hair shook quickly in disgust; Frin was an older man who had been an instructor for nearly forty years, was a believer in beating obedience into everything from a pet to a good soldier, and had a taste for boys under the age of twelve. All in all, a disgusting man whom Darias avoided as if he had the plague, and Taran had to agree. But he was strong, and if he made it, would be a good control as long as he kept his hands to himself. "Well, he's not first. We'll try him second today."

A quiet, "Yes, Sir." and the assistant backed out quickly. The telepath stood and watched until he was notified of his first subject's arrival. Another woman, an empath this time, a strong, polite lady he'd known for years and who was on the same training team as him and Darias. She turned nearly white as the door shut but stayed in control, forcing herself forward and chatting with the boy on the floor.

"Hello. My name is Emily. Your name is Farfarello?" No acknowledgment but no rebuke either, so she pressed forward, carefully checking for signs of aggression toward her under the hate that swirled around him. "It's very nice, where did you get it?"

"Book." He didn't look up from his project and she leaned forward to see; his hand was suddenly over her eyes. "No."

Emily retreated slowly, letting his hand fall away when she couldn't see anymore. "Alright. What would you like to talk about?" He was still mostly ignoring her and she tapped a finger to his nose, watching his eye focus on it sharply. "It's not nice to ignore people. You should speak to them."

"No one is nice here." But he was looking at her now, watching her hands so she moved them, drawing shapes, flexing the long fingers, trailing the nails over cement. The harsh hum of hatred was fading, replaced by interest.

When she raised a hand, he followed, moving closer to her side so he could see when she moved it behind her head; his project was covered with a blanket before he moved but she caught a glimpse of a half full bowl and a book with pictures of plants. "Do you like my nails?" No answer, but he made a grab for her wrist, pulling it out and touching the long nails lightly, pushing gently to watch the color change. "Here."

Her free hand took his and pressed them together; his hand was as large as hers, even with the long nails. When did he get so big? She remembered the skinny boy who'd arrived, she'd been one of the first to receive him, and these hands weren't those of a child, or even an early teen. It was fine for a minute, head tilted, then he tensed up and jerked away, breaking her hold easily.

"Farfarello, what's wrong? Do you not like to be held down? That's alright. Can I still sit with you?" The single eye watched her warily and he scooted backwards, metal gleaming in his hand. "Would you like me to leave?" She didn't feel anything dangerous, just a faint hint of longing, as if he wanted to sit with her. "Well, I'm going to read if you don't want to talk."

A thin book was pulled out of her bag, a children's book of fairy tales filled with pictures and simple text, but useful for calming the younger children who came through. The bright colors drew his attention and he crawled forward immediately to lift the book from her lap. She held on, forcing it flat against her legs. "No. You can read with me but you can not have it without asking politely first."

She was eyed distrustfully and he tugged again; she pulled back, meeting his gaze straight on, showing she was serious. White teeth nibbled his bottom lip while the teen thought about it, not moving, then he twisted to grab a piece of paper and his pencil. The pencil was held out and shaken to show it was empty. A pale brow rose at him and she waited, forcing him to ask. "Pencil."

Long hair nodded. "Yes, it is a pencil." He frowned at her a bit and set the pencil down, holding out his hand for a new one.

Silence and they stared at each other, waiting. Seemingly eternal minutes passed and she felt a flutter in her stomach; how long would he wait? Finally, he took his hand down and folded his legs, still staring. His hand reached for her bag and she moved it a bit, putting it behind her so he couldn't reach. "Pencil please."

"Certainly." A wood pencil was pulled out and handed over to be sharpened before he started to draw, neat lines sliding across the white paper. There, a firm hand and he could at least interact decently with others. "Shall I read?" White nodded absently, not looking up from his sketch.

Three stories were read, the pictures turned so he could see if he wanted to look up, which he didn't. At the end of the third, he finished his picture and scribbled along the top, did a bit of final shading and handed it over. She squinted at his messy scrawl then moved on, unable to read it. A scene from what appeared to be 'Little Red Riding Hood' with a wolf devouring a woman in a lightly shaded cloak; detailed gore and the horror on the small face were disturbing enough, but after a second, she realized it was her face, her long hair splayed out around the body.

He was staring again, watching intently for a reaction, and she kept her face blank while she put the picture down. "Why would you draw that?"

His eye didn't waver and his voice was high, a bit feminine, a hint of English accent adding a touch of snobbery. "Useless brat, we should just shoot him instead of wasting time and space on him. There isn't room for someone who needs this much care. We could say he died in transport, no one would care." Her brow furrowed in confusion then her eyes widened; that was what she said the first time she saw him, tied and so drugged they couldn't even get a mental reading.

"Where did you hear that?" Pale skin slid over graceful limbs as he rolled to his knees and crawled around her.

Warm air touched her cheek as he passed by, soft hair brushing her ear with his whisper. "Worthless bitch, we should just rip her heart out and use it as ingredients for stew instead of wasting manners and words on her." The picture was lifted from her side and folded neatly to be tucked into a pocket of her shirt. "We could say it was an accident, a failure of her control, no one would care." Hard hands clamped down on her shoulders suddenly and she jumped, breath coming quickly as she tried to stay calm.

And still, there was no aggression, no anger towards her, nothing to indicate he would attack. Unexpectedly, he was gone, the warmth of his body lingering against her back. "I'm tired of you, go away please." Mocking laughter as he used perfect manners to dismiss her. "Thank you for coming, please don't come again."

Taran was already at the door, coding it open when she banged her fist against the buzzer. "Shit, what happened?" The woman was pale, hands shaking, bag tumbling open, threatening to spill its contents.

Emily took a shuddering breath and blew it out slowly. "Played me. He knew exactly who I was and he played me. He remembers, the first day he arrived, he remembers it."

"Impossible, his mental functions were completely shut down. I checked them myself; it was blank, just static." His jacket bunched in her grip.

"No, it's not, it wasn't. He quoted me, exactly, word for word, and I only said it to you, Taran, only you and I were there when he came in." Dark hair nodded quickly and he disentangled her hand. "I'm not going back in and I don't think anyone else should either. He is a menace and he needs to be put down before we completely lose him." A long nail jabbed him it the chest with every second word.

A heavy hand ran over the short dark hair and he looked both ways in the hall. "Look, just one more. I went to Standford and he" Her mouth opened and he shushed her quickly, whispering. "Yes, yes, I know, but we can't do this. He almost got Number 7JW29, and all four level 18's had to have to their memories altered. This is ridiculous, we should never have brought him here and I should have listened to you. Ok?" Her mouth opened again and he covered it quickly. "Stanford says if he went through all four 18's and two 19's without a match, we put Number JD910 back and if there are still problems, he's gone. You and I are the only ones who know this, understand? Tell no one."

Long hair nodded quickly. "Of course. You're sure? Hardring is going to get you, you know that."

"We're supposed to be building an empire, a new generation, not sacrificing them to a blood crazed monster." A quick check behind him and he leaned closer, voice lowering to barely a brush of air across her ear. "He got Darias yesterday, sliced his shoulder right behind me, nearly slit his throat before I could even get a decent shot off. We've already lost control."

Her breath came in with a sharp gasp and he shushed her again. "Taran, are you down there?" A courtesy call, because of course he knew they were there. "Hello, Emily. Are you alright?"

She smiled shakily at the brunet. "Yes, thank you Darias. I was just reporting to Taran and I think I'll go back to my quarters, see if Zip is there." A little step was taken away from the new arrival's partner as he moved closer, sliding a hand casually to rest at the base of the taller man's spine.

"Oh, I was just talking to him, he was looking for you. If I'd known you were still here, I would have told him." A slightly sharp smile. "Sorry."

Taran smiled apologetically as his partner ran a hand up his back and Emily smiled up at them both. "Not a problem. I'll just go find him. Good luck, I hope he behaves decently." She grabbed her bag and shut it firmly then paused. "And he gave me this, I don't really want it. See if you can get anything out of it." The picture was carefully tugged out of her pocket with two fingers and handed over. She waved one last time and walked quickly down the hall towards the dormitories, Darias glaring after her.

::Really, why do you have to be like that with her?:: The glare moved to him as he opened the sharply folded paper.

::Me? You're the one who's always all over her.:: He huffed and took his hand from the firm back. ::I'm not talking about this now. What'd he do?::

::Emily says he knew who she was, quoted her on things he shouldn't have known. Scared her pretty badly, she thinks he should be put down.:: They stared at the detailed drawing. ::Huh, no wonder. That would be enough to make me a bit edgy, considering he had his hands on her shoulders.::

::This is really good. I'm keeping it.:: A bright grin and the page was snatched away.

::No, it's going for analysis, see if we can find out a couple of things.:: And then it was going to the incinerator. He'd make sure of it. ::Think he'll give us another one?::

The younger man shot a glance at the door. ::Maybe. Want me to ask?:: His partner nodded and he called through to the blond. "Farfarello? Lock the inner door." There was silence for a minute then a yellow eye popped up in front of him, staring through the window. "Come on, now." ::Taran, did he lose that eye?::

::I don't know, we haven't tried to have a look yet.:: He watched the boy retreat behind the inner door, there was a click of the lock and the key clattered on the floor. The outer door was coded and they stepped through.

Darias picked up the key and knocked on the inner door. "Farfarello, I'd like to talk to you. I want you to promise not to hurt either of us, ok?" No answer and he knocked again; the door swung open abruptly and they stared at the form holding the door open.

"Hello." Taran yanked his gun out, swinging it up to point over Darias' shoulder. "That's not nice."

A delicate hand lifted to rest against the barrel of the weapon and a pink tongue wet dry lips. "Farfarello, how did you open the door?" The key was cool in his hand and there was only one copy, the one hanging in the observation room. Thin shoulders shrugged and the blond fighter stepped back, arm moving in invitation for them to enter. "Will we be safe?" Another shrug and the older man took a step back, forcing his partner backwards slowly.

"No killing." Another slow step back. "No blood." One more step and they were at the door to the hall when the youngest grinned. "I won't hurt either of you if you don't hurt me first."

Taran was about to take the final step when his partner smiled and walked forward, leaving him standing and feeling like an idiot with gun drawn on an unarmed boy and his partner's back.

Darias followed the silent boy and settled on his knees when he did; a piece of candy was dug out of his pocket, the one he'd traded for and was saving for Taran, and held out. "Would you like it?" A quick grab and the foil was played with but not unwrapped. "It's chocolate, there's nothing in it."

Thin shoulders shrugged and the gold eye watched him quietly. The empath could feel his partner behind him, the flash of metal at the corner of his eye showing the gun resting against the long leg pressed to his shoulder. Foil crinkled quietly as they stared at each other, the younger men relaxed and the telepath tense and edgy, nervous energy rolling off his shoulders. "Farfarello, can I see your eye?"

"No." Well, at least he got a response. He tried again.

"Farfarello, do you not like the people we've brought you? They would all make good teammates." A shrug and the eye wandered away, staring at the wall. "Well, I wanted to talk to you about your pictures." The careless gaze wandered back. "May I see some? Anything you want to show me is fine."

Silence and the blond turned and dug through his stash of finished papers, bringing a handful out and holding them between them. Darias took them and flipped through quickly; neat, clear lines, smudges of lead and blood used as coloring, the smallest details present. A picture of him and Taran was there, the smaller man's eyes wide and black, gun steady in his hand, other arm outstretched from shoving his partner, who was turning quickly, his coat flaring with the motion; even the tiny wrinkles at the edges of his mouth and the small birthmark just in front of Taran's ear were there.

::Taran, look.:: He felt the slight shift, the tiny glances while trying to keep an eye on the blond, who was playing with his chocolate, fingering the foil gently. ::These are amazing, look at the detail.::

::Cold. They feel cold, don't you think?:: Too analytical, perfect in every detail; for him to see and reproduce that moment with them both shooting at him, that was cold. ::Just talk him into giving them to you and let's go.::

Papers rustled quietly as the younger brunet flipped through them again. "Farfarello, do you have any of Schuldig?"

"Guilt? Of course." The boy got up and dug through the bed, dragging a stack out from under a pillow and trotted back with them; the foil wrapped candy was gone, disappeared into hiding. "These are mine." Still pleasant, still smiling a bit but a possessive tone claimed the drawings as his and his alone. Darias nodded quickly and took them carefully, lifting and placing each aside as he examined them.

'Damn.' They were, beautiful was the only word he could think of. Some had short hair, some had long, some were of the older boy sleeping, stretching, laughing, glaring at the target when his throws or shots missed. The most striking was of him leaning back on his elbow, a still bleeding mark on his chest as he dragged a delicate hand through the blood, streaking it across the thin stomach. It was erotic in a way, a child with far too much malice in his eyes, the curve of full lips in a vicious smile, and terrifying at the same time, this dangerous boy, filled with a scarred, harsh beauty and hate.

He kept that one, running his fingers lightly over the clear lines, nearly petting it. "Do you lust for him? Is he beautiful to you?" A sharp smirk and amber glowed, bright metal flashing between lean fingers.

"Yes, he is beautiful. No, I do not lust after him." Dark eyes glanced back at his partner and he smiled. "I have Taran. I don't need or want your partner."

When he looked back down, the blond was mere centimeters away, leaning in close to stare. There was a long pause, Taran's leg taut against him, the click of the safety loud and sharp. "True." Dark eyes blinked slowly and the boy was back in his original position. "What have you come for?"

Fear tried to edge along his spine but he crushed it quickly; he, they could have died, right then if he'd lied. "We came to ask to have a picture. Any would do." A pale hand waved for him to take one from the first set but he couldn't make himself let go of the last picture. "And, I want to ask for this one. As a favor, for me." It wasn't part of the plan, but he couldn't let something like that just slip away, be destroyed somehow without trying to save it.

Fire, heat and rage, flared and a hand of ice wrapped around his throat, cold nose leaning into touch his cheek and slide along the bone. No metal, just cold, cold skin touched his and he heard Taran bring his weapon up; the press of a hand to the older man's shin made him pause and he waited it out, nerves taut and anxious.

Hot air, as if from a furnace flared along the curve of Darias' neck and a wet tongue flicked over his ear. "Should we trade? I'll give it to you if you give me your partner."

"No." Not that, but the trading idea had merit. "Something else."

Thick lashes brushed his cheek, the pale head turned to look him in the eye, yellow bright and clear. "Teach me about empaths, and I'll give you this one." A paper appeared, folded in quarters; it was unfolded gently and the quick intake of air was nearly a gasp. Schuldig from the hips up, head tipped back under the spray of a shower, blood still streaking his face and shoulders, dripping from his hair, pink tinted water running over his chest and stomach; it must be cold, his back was slightly curved, stomach sucked into a concave arch as if to escape, and his nipples were hard, skin drawn tightly over slender muscle.

Taran was a faint voice in his head, telling him to hurry up, but the clear lines, the seemingly innocent image captured him, the deadly subtext, the implications of showering off that much blood repelled him as much as it drew him. "Don't you want it?" It was just as beautiful, just as erotic and frightening.

White hair pulled back, releasing him from the frozen spell, and thin shoulders shrugged negligently. "It's not real." His eye cut over the scattered pictures. "Some are true and some are not and some do not matter." The handful of pictures of Schuldig was in his hands, the ones Darias hadn't even realized he'd taken, and gentle fingers ran over the edges.

The questions burned at his tongue (What is real? What is true? How can you possibly tell?) but were held back firmly. Instead, he reached back and was lifted gracefully to his feet, a handful of pictures gathered from the floor. "Thank you, Farfarello. I'm glad we could reach an agreement. We'll go so you can eat. It's about time for a meal, isn't it? I'll come back tomorrow with some books for you." A soft grunt and they left, Taran keeping a careful eye on the blond, who stayed sitting, idly running his fingers over his drawings.

Half way down the hall and Darias stopped to lean on the wall, staring at the papers. "Holy shit, Taran, did you see these?" An impatient nod from his partner and they started to walk again, the shorter man running his fingers continuously over the clear lines. "Such a waste, this kind of talent."

"Whatever. I hate that name he picked for himself, sounds stupid." Heavy steps stomped along, annoyance radiating from the lean body and the empath patted his arm lightly then pinched when he was swatted at.

"Who cares? Every time you say it, he looks at you, it keeps his attention. It's just a name, maybe he hates yours." Taran had stopped and was staring down at his partner, who stared serenely back up.

His fingers flexed, hands clenching quickly. "You, someday," He was practically growling and Darias contained his laughter. "You are a pain in the ass."

::But you love me anyway.:: A pleased little smile and the younger man stepped around and trotted off, leaving his fuming partner behind. "Come on, let's drop these off and have something to eat before the last match."

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"What do you mean, nothing?" Taran slammed his hands on the old table, causing it to shake under the force. "I thought you were the best? There has to be something!"

Darias' hand skimmed his back as the smaller brunet moved forward, smiling softly. "What Taran means, is are you certain? He wasn't thinking of anything, feeling anything that might help us?" The psychometric young man shook his head, long blue and green hair flying.

"Look, there's nothing there. Whoever drew these wasn't upset, happy, aggressive, angry, anything. He was only thinking of drawing the picture, which lines to add, which to erase, not about the subject or his reasons. I'm sorry, but I can't help you." He tried to smile at Darias and ignored Taran's growl of frustration.

"Can you read what he wrote? Maybe that will help." Pale blue eyes rolled but the long haired man picked the picture up again and closed his eyes, focusing closely.

A soft intake of breath and the paper was dropped back to the table. "All wickedness is but little to the wickedness of a woman." (Ecclesiasticus 25:19) The older pair frowned at him. "That's what it says, that's what he was thinking when he wrote it. No hate, no anger, just that phrase, calm and quiet."

"Fuck!" The dark-haired telepath stomped away from the table to kick the wall a few times while his quieter partner thanked the psychometric and gathered the pages. "Darias, show him the other one."

The empath's lips tightened but he pulled the picture of Schuldig out to hand over. He hadn't wanted to share that, just take it back to his room and put it somewhere safe. It was taken and thin lips parted immediately, shallow breaths coming in and out rapidly. "Wow. This is, wow."

"What? Come on, we don't have all day." Taran had stopped abusing the wall and stalked over to watch the multicolored hair shake.

Shivers ran down the slim back and the young man grinned at them. "Amazing. The same person drew these? This is absolutely crammed with thoughts, calm, happy, affectionate. Not lonely, more bored, wishing this person would come back, curious about where he is, why he isn't there." Blue closed and he delved a bit deeper, shoulders jerking faintly. "Damn. He, hates this person, nearly as much as he adores him, for leaving him. The empath, is that you? He's very annoyed with the empath and the shooter, for taking the boy, for leaving him with inferior toys."

"Damn it all to hell, this isn't helping!" Darias shushed his partner with a light push at sturdy shields.

"That's fine, anything else?" Long hair shook and the page was handed back without a word. "Alright, thank you. If you think of anything, send me a note, please." A pleasant smile and he hustled his fuming partner out the door, papers folded in his pocket.

"Dammit, dammit, dammit, wasted time, that fucking brat, I" A firm hand covered his mouth.

"Taran, enough. We got what we needed." A curious grunt and Darias smiled, cool and sharp. "Killing, pain, fear, they mean nothing to him. But he still feels, especially for Schuldig. As soon as Frin is rejected as a partner, we'll put Schuldig back, even if he is injured. Farfarello will take care of him." His hand was removed and he took a calloused hand in his, pulling his partner down the hall for lunch. "Everything will be perfect."

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Hooray, next chapter done! Please review, I love to get them.


	6. Chapter 6

Ooph, finally done! Sorry, I just don't have the time these days, but I am working on it, slowly but surely. I hope you enjoy this chapter! Thanks to everyone who reviewed and those to favorited, added me to the update list, etc.

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Chapter 6

"Alright, let's get this over with." A loud, booming voice and Taran's lips tightened; Darias had disappeared half an hour ago, claiming a headache and that he was going to check on Schuldig. Which left his older partner to deal with Frin the prick.

The large sixty three year old was dressed for training in loose canvas pants and a tight short sleeved shirt, both plain green. At his side was a crop he was particularly fond of, the handle well worn and the tip long stained with trainees' blood. "Can't believe you kids can't even handle one little boy. A firm hand and he'll be obeying in no time." A wide hand ran over short grey hair. "He just needs a reminder of who's in charge around here, you brats and your 'ease them in' theories." A slightly disgusted snort accompanied the disparaging comment.

'Just stay calm. Don't let him provoke you.' Even if he did agree sometimes, and personally thought Darias was a little soft on their trainees, he wasn't about to agree with the older man. "Of course. But, he doesn't seem to feel pain and he's not afraid of anything." The clipboard was tapped impatiently. "You read his file, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, you boys have spoiled him. I'll teach him about pain right quick. Fear is a healthy emotion for boys." A slightly mocking grin. "Something that little partner of yours is aware of."

Dark eyes narrowed and the plastic clipboard slapped on the desktop. "Shall we get started? The buzzer is connected to this room and we'll open the door as soon as you hit it. He can get through the inner door, but it slows him down. Otherwise, stay away from religion and good luck." A tight smile and the brunet turned away, ignoring the snort and mumbling behind him. The door shut loudly and minutes later, he saw the instructor step through the inner door.

"On your feet!" White hair turned quickly and the gold eye stared at this new intruder. A crop was being tapped against a thick leg but no other weapons were in evidence. "Move!"

This might be fun. The blond bounced up after covering his project and stood watching the loud man. "Come here." Quick, obedient steps brought him to stand a couple of feet away and he had to look up now, tilting his head back until his hair fell around his shoulders. "What the hell is wrong with you? Stand up straight, look ahead. You do not look at your commander unless you are given permission. Is this clear?"

Thin shoulders shifted back a bit and the single eye turned forward, staring at the dark shirt stretched over heavy muscle. The crop whistled in the air before it struck his shoulder, raising a welt through the fragile shirt. "Is that understood?" Hot air washed over the boy's face as the man bellowed in his face.

"Yes." Another strike, to his chest this time. "Yes, sir."

"Good boy." The crop ran over his shoulder and up to touch white hair as its wielder stalked around him. "Kneel." No movement and the leather slammed against his back in a series of strikes, welts raising almost instantly. Farfarello dropped to his knees with a soft thud, still staring straight ahead.

"Good boy. If you do as you are told, you will not be punished." A few more circles, crop trailing over the slender body. "They tell me you have a lot of potential but I don't see it. You're just a useless boy with a bad attitude." More silence and a few steps took the large man back to the door; he turned and looked down at the kneeling teen. "Come here."

The blond started to rise and the tip of the crop was pointed at him. "No, on your knees. You do as I say. You don't have the right to decide things. You are worthless, a useless, stupid boy who needs to be told what to do, when and how." A brief pause, then Farfarello dropped back to his knees and crawled quietly over to kneel at his feet.

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Taran started to have an ominous feeling low in his stomach and watched carefully with narrowed eyes, waiting for a sign of aggressive behavior. 'He's planning, cunning little bastard. What is he doing?' Because it couldn't be this easy, he'd stood up to electroshock punishments, mental attacks of all forms, drug therapy, and beatings the brunet wasn't sure I he /I could have taken; this was just too easy not to be a set up.

Theories about his mental capabilities had been common, everything from retarded to ignorant to just plain too far gone in fantasy to tell. Every test they'd gotten him to write had been exactly the same as Schuldig's and it was impossible to tell who was giving answers, who was guiding the points. Or if it was even them; they could be pulling the answers from their classmates and sharing. Regardless, this was too easy, too simple and there was no way to warn Frin; the light on his radio was off. Taran signaled the team to be ready and leaned back to watch, because there was nothing else to do.

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Frin stood and looked down at the boy. 'Is this it? Pathetic.' The problem child of the East section was just a boy with authority issues. Though, he was pretty, even with the scars, and a bit older than his usual type, but not too much, still had that delicate build, even if he was getting tall. And being in a position of power always made him hard, even he could admit that; being a soldier had nothing to do with being invincible and everything to do with being aware of your limits. 'What the hell, why not?'

But first, a lesson or two in obedience. "What is your name?"

"Farfarello." Three strikes fell immediately, blood staining the back of the thin white shirt. "Farfarello sir."

The heavy slap of leather was muffled by wet skin and soaked fabric, blood running freely now. "No. When asked for your name, you give your number and talent. What is your name?" He continued swinging, changing the rhythm so as not to set a beat, make it hurt more. Long minutes of silence, broken only by the splash of blood on the floor and the crack of leather on bare skin, shirt shredded away.

Finally, a soft voice came from the boy. "Number 928TX, no talent." One last hit. "sir."

"Good boy." The burly man stepped around to face the teen, tipping his face up with the tip of the crop. "Say it again."

"Number 928TX, no talent, sir." The gold eye was blank, no tears, no pain, no fear.

'Well, we'll fix that.' The free hand moved to his fly and unzipped it, pulling the heavy erection out and stroking a few times. "Open your mouth." A slow blink of gold and the crop fell again across a thin shoulder. Thin lips opened slowly and a slender hand reached out to touch, curious fingers trailing over hot flesh. "Yeah, good boy."

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'Ew.' Such a mature reaction but it was the only one the brunet felt and he turned away, wishing Darias was there to talk to, look at, anything. The assistant beside him was looking a bit green too and he motioned the young man out, waving the smile of gratitude away. Sex may be the easy way to break talents, but Frin was just gross and no one should have to watch. The young blond stumbled at the door, both hands going to his head and a pained cry escaping.

Taran took the few steps in seconds and knelt, brushing long bangs out of the way to stare into pale blue eyes. "Hate, hates us, hates him, no, no, won't stop, hates us, hates him." A hoarse whisper and he jerked back to the window, hands flat as he watched in fascinated horror, a soft cry from Darias via their bond trembling in his mind.

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Warm breath moved over the damp tip and the grey-haired man tilted his head forward to watch; the blond had one hand wrapped around him and one between his thighs. A low groan of appreciation and a heavy hand landed on the white hair, pushing the teen forward. "Come on, do it."

"Okay." For a second, he felt nothing, not warmth, not the cold shock of metal, not the blinding pain, not even the blood that arced from the stump of a penis. The large body folded in half, crop dropped in favor of holding the injured groin, shock leaving him silent. "Stay still now."

The fast tap of feet running to the doors and the inner door slammed abruptly, leaving the large man to huddle on the floor; he dragged himself to his knees and started to stagger to his feet. 'Shit, how did that little brat get me?' No gun, his crop obviously wouldn't do it, no knives scattered around, though the pest was supposedly infatuated with them, damn, damn, damn! 'Tie it off, keep blood loss down.' Basic survival training and he ripped a piece of his sleeve with his teeth and tied it quickly, choking off the gushing crimson. Pain thrummed though his body, radiating from his groin as he forced his feet to move towards the door, intent on reaching the hall and the medical ward.

Last choice. Power brushed outwards and came against soft shields. A cautious push showed them to be elastic and he edged through, careful to avoid touching anything and stepped gently through the green landscape. Nothing, it was completely empty and he sent out a questioning nudge, looking for something to hold. All quiet. As his physical body stumbled on the smooth floor, his mind skimmed quickly, ready to do a fast and hard sweep, as soon as he found something to sweep.

There was a soft roar from behind him and he turned to see a wave of red reaching to the sky and could just make out a shock of white before it overtook him, snapping his head back. The link back to his body was dissolving right from under his feet and he shoved every ounce of power into it, forcing it steady long enough for him to race back to his own mind, scrambling to shut down his shields.

When he opened his eyes, he was kneeling, still bleeding, the room cold and silent; seconds had passed, a minute at the most, and he took deep breaths to regain control. A faint whistling and his crop landed on his shoulder, knocking him forward and leaving a bright red welt at the crease of his neck. "Bad boy. If you do as you are told, you will not be punished."

'How did he get behind me?' The thought was drowned out by the sharp crack of leather on skin, his blood dripping to the floor this time. He couldn't do anything but huddle down and take it, the pain in his groin too intense to allow for a chance to fight. It was humiliating but this whole episode was; soft words washed over him, instructions on how to behave with your superior officer, more than he'd given. 'That little bastard. He knew it all, just didn't want to.'

One large hand was grabbed and yanked firmly up to his neck, a strip of cloth cutting off its circulation; the cloth wound around his neck and the other hand was reached for. Frin swung his arm as hard as he could and grinned when it connected with a delicate cheekbone, a loud crack in his ears. Pressure didn't fade from his arm, pulled tighter in the end, and faint laughter washed eerily over him. "What the hell is wrong with you? You must never hit your superior nor your doctor." A slender hand touched the already swelling cheek, feeling the cracked bone tenderly. "Bad, bad, bad." Each word brought a hard strike, delicate looking arms bunching with sturdy muscle in the boy's anger.

While the older man choked, his other arm was captured and tied tightly at his throat; a few experimental tugs left him gasping for air and he stopped fighting to get his breath back. "Ok you brat, you've had your fun, you're a better fighter than I am. Let me go." His teeth ground at the admission but right now, getting out was the most important thing; his entire midsection was on fire, pain vibrating through his body and he couldn't even put pressure on the bleeding wound.

"No, you are my experiment. I was given a present, it would be rude not to use it." He nodded seriously and the telepath gaped at him. "Come and be a good boy." The smaller form pulled insistently until he had the larger body leaning on him; thin shoulders set and he heaved, forcing the older man to support his own weight or fall. More pulling and they staggered to the inner door and through, the telepath set almost gently down. "Good boy."

A slightly mocking smile twisted the thin lips and Frin snarled at him. "You should be nice to me. If you aren't, you'll be punished." More pieces of cloth were pulled from a small pile beside the outer door and folded neatly to press to the still sluggishly bleeding stump. Its owner groaned and tried to wriggle away. "Be still. If I don't bandage it properly, you might die. And that would be bad, you want to live don't you? Suicide is wrong, killing yourself would make God happy. If you kill yourself, you go straight to hell and don't get to see God and spit on him." Gold started to glow as he finished tying the makeshift bandage. "Yes, someone like you, God doesn't want you, no, no, He'll cry every minute you live."

A brilliant grin, fanaticism in his eyes as he stared down at his captive. "Oh, but He will scream when you come before Him, every cry you make will be as His, every pain a welt on Him." Rambling, silver pressed to the thick neck then flashed away, slicing into the blond's arm instead. "No, test first, tests, then you may go before Him and make Him sob with disgust." More cuts followed the first, trailing up and down the delicate looking arm, blood flowing quickly to drip from twitching fingertips. Calm seemed to follow, the deranged look fading as crimson droplets splashed to the floor.

"Don't you think it would hurt God more if I were to live? I'm a bad man, you said so, so I should be allowed to continue making him hurt." Cool eyes watched him as a piece of cloth was wrapped around the bleeding arm.

Low words, calm and relaxed, not at all like the unstable boy's recent ramblings. "You people. You really think I will do anything you want if it hurts God? Doing the bidding of others is not as harmful as choosing to cause pain on your own. Each choice cuts deeply, tears at His sanity." A slight smile, soft and sweet, and a frisson of true panic ran down the broad back. "By killing you, I cause pain to the Original Liar. I will be the one to kill him, no one else."

The blond turned his back and went about his preparations, setting out a series of small bowls Frin recognized from the kitchen and a set of knives and needles, all spotlessly shining silver. 'Where the fuck is the team?' Taran must have been watching, seen what had happened, where were they? A second of doubt was shaken off. He wouldn't leave him in here, just because he teased his partner. He hoped.

There, voices in the hall, frustrated and the sound of a code being put in and metal being hit. "Fuck! What's going on? Why won't it open?" A bit muffled but clearly his partner's voice, on the verge of tears as always.

'If he gets me out of here, I'll never, ever hit him again.' At least he had the surety of knowing the gun would be steady in the pyro's hand; he's trained him, after all. There was a yank on his neck and he noticed a lead tied to the cloth rope; it was being pulled through the door handle so he would either keep it shut or suffocate if it was opened. Don't force the door. I'm tied to it.

Frin! Frin, Frin, Frin, Frin,

Shut it! He could see the start and huddle of delicate shoulders on the back of his eyelids. I'm tied to the door handle and He craned up to look at the number pad. He's pulled the electronics apart. You need a telekinetic, someone to untie me and open the door quickly, before he can kill me.

Yes, Sir. I have one with me now. We'll get you out, I promise, I'm so sorry, I should have been there, I'm sorry, I

Shut it. Another little start. You did good bringing a telekinetic with you. Get me out of here now.

Silent shock, then a burst of pleasure from the praise. Yes, Sir! Muffled commands were being given and Frin's shields slapped into place firmly, blocking any power leaks.

"It's rude to have conversations and not include everyone." Mild words and cool hands moved over his skin, leaving tiny cuts behind; thick liquid, almost a salve was rubbed in and the grey-haired man flinched at the burning, pain running up and down his arms. His skin was too sensitized, recent wounds too raw to allow him to ignore even the small injuries. "Those aren't very good painkillers, are they? We should try these." More little cuts on his chest were treated; no pain, just a bit of numbness. "Better."

A little pill was pushed between pain tight lips and a thin hand covered Frin's nose and mouth, cutting off his breathing until he swallowed. "Good boy."

A complete lack of concern for the team getting in and he had to ask. "They're coming for me. Aren't you worried?" Something was happening, the pill nearly dissolved on his tongue before he could swallow and a curious mental numbness was spreading. 'What did he give me?'

"No." White shook quickly as he rubbed a soft cloth over the burning skin. "The first three in will die, and you. After that?" Amber shone and one shoulder moved in a half shrug. "Who knows?"

'Oh God.' Frin didn't think he'd ever been actually scared of anything until that moment. 'Don't open the door!' Too late, the tether at his neck was already unraveling, the door starting to swing open.

There was a soft clink and a bowl started to fall, tipping liquid onto the intruders as an elastic snapped, sending needles slashing through the air from the sides. The blond wrapped a hand in the tight dark shirt and yanked, pulling his captive past him and into a corner, out of the way. Both telekinetics automatically formed shields above themselves and the team, protecting them from the upper, front, and side threats as knives zipped forward, freezing in place.

There was a rapid series of pops as the lock clicked uselessly in place, trying to operate with the destroyed mechanism; Frin's eyes widened further as he watched an elastic pull tighter and tighter with each click. He tried to call out but there was a hard hand over his mouth, and his telekinesis was disabled; there was a loud snap and the elastic broke, sending thin blades cutting deeply into the backs and throats of the men in the rear. Strangled cries and three men fell, clutching their wounds; both telekinetics and a guard lay writhing on the floor.

"Drop your weapons!" One hand held a gun, the other a flame, dark eyes bright and steady. "Release Frin and step away." The only one left, small, thin, no where near a match for the vicious boy.

'No, shit, get back, you damn brat!' He barely had time to finish his mental sentence, the blond throwing another knife; his little partner darted to the side, a line of flame brushing the bloody white shirt. 'Wheat, get back!'

Laughter, he was laughing, knives spread between his fingers, white hair dancing with his movements. "Why?"

"Why what?" A slight frown from the small pyrokinetic. "I'm here to get Frin, give him to me."

A smug little smirk and metal flashed as the blond juggled his weapons teasingly, making his opponent shift his weight in preparation of dodging. "Why do you want him back? He's a bad partner, he doesn't give a damn about you, and he hits you when he feels like it. Why do you want him back?"

"How…" Full lips tightened and the gently rounded chin rose in defiance. "It doesn't matter. He's mine." The flickering flame grew, burning steadily. "Give him to me."

Thin lips tilted. "No." Knives flew in a scattered pattern, impossible to avoid and Frin could only watch the sharp blades slice into the flat stomach, the lean back arch in shock, pain flit over the timid face. Flames danced for a moment, trying to form a wall for protection before dying slowly

"Wheat! Get up, you fucking stupid brat!" And for the first time, he regretted giving him such a crappy name; his eighth partner, a skinny little French kid he'd meant to mock. "Get up!" A faint whimper but no motions to get up, just pained wriggling on the floor.

One slow step was followed by another as the blond edged closer, listening to the soft cries, a knife balanced carefully in his hand. Barely a shift in position, a soft intake of breath and he went flying back, followed by fire, clear and harsh in its heat. The smell of charred meat and cloth surrounded Frin as he was shoved forward, the blond burrowing under his back. "Stop, Wheat, stop!" In an instant, the flame was gone, the room cold as always and the older man watched the small body on the floor relax completely into unconsciousness.

Pleased giggles from behind him and the large man snarled, throwing himself backwards, ignoring the shooting pains and awkward movements. He only hit the wall, the blond scrambling out from behind him and crawling over to poke his partner, prodding the bleeding cuts. "Leave him alone, you little fucking bastard."

"Why? You don't care, you'll just get another." A soundless snarl from his captive. "I'm bored. We should continue experiments before they try again." White shook, a mock pout sliding the bottom lip out. "They underestimated me again. It's so boring to play when everyone thinks you're a helpless child." Delighted laughter and the knives were collected, bodies shoved out of the room easily, the heavy door slammed shut.

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Darias raced down the hall, book in hand and shirt half open; he'd been in medical getting his arm looked at when his shields gave and hate slammed though him. It had to be Farfarello; no one else was untrained with that kind of hate. Taran hadn't answered his call but he was unhurt and giving orders, so he left him alone and went to collect his only bargaining chip. Schuldig was still unconscious from blood loss and shock and there was no guarantee he would survive a move.

"Farfarello? It's Darias. Let me in please." Nothing was visible through the window, just blank walls and he sent a nudge to his partner. Where is he?

Not here. He's in there, door's closed. The older man sounded frazzled and worn, exhausted from the probable loss of another telepath. Don't be stupid.

Yes, sir. A hint of smile; affection from his partner was rare. We'll get him out, Taran. The younger partner tried again, hand pressed to the window. "Farfarello, I brought you that book. Remember? I was going to teach you about empaths." White hair popped up and a gold eye peeked at him, blue covering the other side of his face. A large swelling on the right cheek was dark and blood flecked the pale skin and slightly frazzled hair.

"Where is it?" Interest.

'Thank God.' The empath swallowed and held up his text, letting the blond read the cover. "If you let me in, I'll give it to you."

"You'll give it to me later, you promised." A wide grin, teeth gleaming, contrasting sharply with the blood spattered on the death white face. "If I let you in, you'll take my experiment."

"An experiment? Is that what you've been making today?" A quick bob of the head and it vanished. "Farfarello! Farfarello, come back and talk to me. What kind of experiment are you doing?"

'Come on, come on, where is he?' A scream burst through the door, blood droplets scattering over the window, and agony flailed at the empath, staggering him against the door.

"Did you feel it?" The white head was bouncing, bright eye eagerly awaiting his reaction.

Ragged gasps, Taran's voice clear in his head demanding to know what was happening, and Darias leaned his head against the window, glass cool against his skin. "Yes." Shit, shit, what happened to his shields? He tested them quickly; still mostly intact, just a tiny breach from earlier but nothing new. "Just a second, don't do that again." Disappointment, curiosity, a bit of annoyance, emotions sliding over the unusually expressive face. "What kind of tests are you doing?" Distract him, maybe, maybe he could talk his way in and…what? Take his experiment away? 'What the hell are we going to do?'

"Medical. I'm testing the effects of various medicines as irritants, painkillers, sedatives, and poisons." Glee shone and the teen wriggled, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Needles flickered between his fingers but no new cuts appeared, the thick fluid dripping from the sharp points carefully avoided. "Have to be careful, he's not good like me, he moves around a lot." A mock annoyed look at the floor and Darias suddenly realized exactly where Frin was.

The next thought was, 'Oh shit, he's playing at imitating the doctors, he's repeating what they say.' Almost exactly. But where did he get things to test?

Number 7JW29 was training to be a doctor. I just checked, her bag and book of natural herbs are missing and were probably left in there. Cleaning wasn't aware they were supposed to look for it and it wasn't visible. His partner's voice was soothing in his head, running calming fingers over his nerves, even agitated.

'Okay, alright, we can handle this.' Taran, go get Schuldig. You'll need to carry him and bring a doctor. Bring one of my textbooks, the blue one on the bottom right shelf. We'll bribe him into a trade. Agreement came back and the empath felt his older partner begin to give orders. "Farfarello, come here. I want to talk to you." A pale hand waved at him but the boy didn't appear; pain and fear trickled through the door but not the shocking agony of before. "Farfarello, why don't you tell me about your experiment?"

The teen popped up again, licking a blade and talking around it. "Today we are testing painkillers as skin irritants. We are also testing sedatives and their affect on paranormal talents." Which explained the telepath's silence. For a second the boy looked put out and took the knife from his mouth. "But this subject is stubborn and difficult. He also takes a long time to show effects and for the samples to wear off, even in low doses. We are most displeased."

'Now where would he get all that?' He sounded like a television commercial, or one of those tacky science shows. "Farfarello, why are you doing this experiment?"

A thin brow rose at him and the blond looked like he believed Darias to be the biggest idiot in the world. "Because I am bored, of course. You took Guilt away from me and didn't give me any new toys. At least none that don't break easily." His eye was clear and serious, completely sane. "This is a boring place, with no one to play with."

Boredom. Of course. The dark head shook in amazement; this school had been termed hell, a torture chamber, a slaughterhouse, but he'd never, in twenty three years, heard it be called boring. Taran, where are you?

Just around the corner. He's still out and I have a doctor with me.

Ok, stay there for a second. "Farfarello, would you let me have Frin if I gave you Schuldig? I also have two books for you, so you won't be bored anymore."

The bright eye closed for long seconds and Darias licked his lips nervously; there was no telling what the blond was doing now. "No. Guilt wouldn't be any fun, he's asleep."

Okay, plan B. Taran, take Schuldig back, please. He won't trade for him. Leave the doctor. "Farfarello, would you consider a new subject?" White tilted at him curiously. 'Good, at least he'd paying attention.' The empath took a step back from the door, letting the blond get a better look at him. "I volunteer as a test subject. May I come in? I swear I won't try to take Frin away until we reach an agreement."

Pale hair disappeared and pain washed over the empath's shields, fear, panic, anger, a variety as the boy thought. Or at least he assumed he was thinking, he might have simply decided he was bored with their discussion. Long minutes of silence, only the ebb and flow of emotions, and the door swung open quietly, a slight scrape where it was just off the frame; a remainder from the earlier skirmish.

"You may come in." Taran yelled in his mind as the brunet walked through the door and shut it behind him. "Sit."

Darias settled on his knees, careful not to look at Frin, who was huddled in a ball on the floor, blood covering his usually neat clothes. "Thank you. Why don't you tell me what kind of experiments you want to do?"

"Ones that hurt." Dark hair nodded briefly. "Ones from the book."

"What book?" The herbal tome was held up and the brunet held out his hand. "May I?" It was handed over and he thumbed through, flipping stiff pages quickly. "How much of this do you understand? I can help you with that. Also, the empathy books are included with me. I can be very useful in understanding them."

Silence and the blond wandered around him, poking his arm and touching his hair lightly. "Ok."

"There are still the details to work out. Will you sit?" A soft thud and the teen settled behind him, something sharp trailing his spine. "No killing, no permanent harm. When Schuldig wakes up, I wish to be traded for him. I will deal with meals, anyone who comes to the door, and let you do your experiments. I would like to have some time to see Taran in the evening but I'll stay here with you all the time. Does that sound alright?"

Soft humming and warm air brushed his collar. "Guilt will not wake for at least a day."

"Then I'll be here until then." Heat seeped into his back from the thinner body and a sharp chin rested on his shoulder. 'He's grown so much lately, how big will he get?' He was as tall as Darias and if he kept it up would surpass Taran within the month. A shift of the slim body behind him and the lean chest pressed firmly to his back, long legs spread around his hips and slender arms wrapped around his waist.

"Will you take Guilt's place?" There was a hint of Irish lilt, a melodic brush of words that made the brunet smile.

His hand lifted ran over the soft curls, trailing his fingers through. "No." The empath opened his shields a bit, cautious but there was only calm boredom, and a bit of loneliness. Even if he was faking most of it, of course Farfarello would be lonely after over three months of constant company. "I'm just here for a while. I have to go back to Taran, but you'll have Schuldig back." Quiet humming against his neck and he closed his eyes to relax.

It might be stupid, and Taran would bitch him out later, but they were just boys, unbalanced and dangerous, but still boys. "Farfarello, I'd like to move Frin out. He needs a doctor." Slightly rough white moved against his cheek in a nod. "I need you to help me or for someone to come help carry him." The dark head turned slowly, tilting away so they didn't hit each other and looked into the yellow eye. "Will you help me, please?"

"No. You can do it." Warmth was removed from his back, the legs at his sides curling back easily, a brush of the smaller body against him. "I did."

A dark brow rose at the statement; how could he lift a man twice his weight and nearly three times his size? The brunet remained silent and brushed his pants off as he stood. His first good look at Frin made him swallow heavily but he still took the steps to kneel beside him. "Frin? Frin, it's Darias. I'm going to take you to the door now, alright?" A low groan had him flinching again and he untied the thick arms to let them drop heavily before sliding his hands carefully around the heavy waist.

Blood caked the older man's entire body, tiny cuts covering every available part of his skin, some red and inflamed, some deep and bleeding sluggishly. Cloth bandages were wrapped around much of his body, covering wide slices and skinned areas that could be felt as the smaller man started to lift. As he pushed, staggering to his feet, shoulder planted firmly under a thick arm, the front of the telepath's pants fell open and Darias choked, stumbling to his knees at the sight of the bright red bandage. 'What happened?'

White clad legs appeared in front of him and he looked up to see the blond watching him quietly. A long bang was tucked behind a small ear as they stared at each other. Finally, the thinner body knelt, shifted an arm over his shoulders and heaved, standing with little effort; Darias bounced up and slipped under the other arm. Pain radiated from the older trainer as they took slow steps to the door and he was shoved out, his weight sending Darias staggering again, falling against the guard who reached out to steady them. They lowered Frin to the floor and the doctor started wrapping his wounds immediately while the limp body was lifted onto a stretcher.

The door closed quietly behind them and Darias stared at it for a long minute. Was he free? Excused from duty? Silence from the other side and he prodded Taran, hoping he was in contact with whoever was watching from the observation room. What's he doing?

There was a minute of silence. Wandering around, gathering his knives. Looks calm, a bit tired, he's settled with paper and pencil. Relief flowed to him through the bond and he smiled. Good job, Dar. Looks like Wheat's gonna make it.

A quick smile at the mention of Frin's partner; a sweet young man, timid, shy, but completely devoted. That's really good. Hopefully Frin too. It would destroy Wheat to be left alone, without his beloved partner. A brief pause while he picked up his books and claimed the emergency medical supplies left in the rush to the medical ward. Taran, I'm going back in.

A squawk of outrage and his body seized up, refusing to move. You are not going back in there. Get your ass to medical and get checked out.

The empath smiled to himself and twisted his talent, sending a flash of panic and shock back at his partner, enough to loosen the grip on his body. Taran, I have to. I promised. The push of emotion was kept up long enough for him to open the door and step through. Love you, see you this evening. Rage flashed at him before he shut down his talent completely, closing off any contact.


	7. Chapter 7

Ok, here we go! The unfortunate thing about long stories is that I tend to write the beginning and the end and fill in the rest to match them up. The really, truly unfortunate thing? If I hit a snag somewhere in the middle, we're all doomed. Bleh. However, I think I've got it sort of organized. Thank you so much to everyone who has been waiting so patiently and to everyone who reviewed! (if you sign in, I can answer you, so please do)

Chapter 7

"Farfarello." The single eye looked up from the paper, pencil paused. "Where would you like me to set up?"

A slow blink, paper rustling as it was set down. "What are you doing?"

"I said I would come and stay with you until Schuldig wakes up. And I brought the books I promised you." The empath smiled and held up the smaller book. "I thought, even if you're finished experiments for the day, we might do some reading and I'll try to tell you a bit about my talent. I also thought you might let me bandage your shoulder." The burn was nearly white, covered in blisters and at least a second, maybe even a third degree. There wasn't much he could do with the limited supplies but at least an effort could be made.

The blond considered, hands still, then reached up to touch his shoulder, almost as if he wasn't aware it was injured. His neck craned a bit so he could see and he nodded. "Ok." The filthy shirt was tugged over the long hair and tossed aside, leaving streaks of blood and burnt pieces on the pale skin.

Darias knelt and opened his case, digging out antiseptic and clean bandages. "Does it hurt?"

"No." Thin shoulders didn't even tremble as his trainer ran the stinging solution over tender skin before moving up to wipe his cheek down. Bone ground a bit under the brunet's fingers and he tried not to flinch at the awful sound; he never did do well with bone injuries. A pale hand brushed his away and firm fingers shoved the bone into place with a snap, grating the edges. "There."

Darias swallowed and continued, taping a bandage over the swollen cheek and applying a cooling salve to the clean shoulder, wrapping it gently. Blank gold watched him throughout the entire operation, staring straight into his eyes. When the brunet was finished, he was pulled firmly forward and pressed down on the nest. Farfarello rolled him to his back then crawled up to sit on his stomach, book in hand. "What would you like?"

"Read this." The book was pressed to the older man's chest and he opened it to the first page to begin reading. His voice was steady and calm, quietly instructing on the proper making and use of infusions, tinctures, and decoctions. The longer he read, the more relaxed the blond became, curling on his stomach, head pillowed on the slender chest, soft hair flared out over both their shoulders.

"Farfarello, are you tired? Should we take a break?" A faint mumble and he ran a hand through soft hair, feeling the need for a shower. "Would you like a bath later?" Another mumble and Darias started to roll to his side, arm lightly around the trim waist.

Metal pricked his side and he froze, off balance but not daring to move. "Yes?" The pale head was lifted and the cool eye watched him, clear and alert.

"I'm hungry. Bring me something."

"No." The eye narrowed. "I am not here to serve you. I am here to replace Frin until Schuldig wakes. I am still your commander and you have to show me respect, just like I show you respect." They stared at each other for long minutes, neither blinking. Finally, the boy leaned back and shifted his weight to roll them the rest of the way over; a truce and Darias breathed an internal sigh of relief.

If the blond gave a bit, he could too. "It is time for a snack, isn't it? I'll ask Taran to send us something. Do you have a preference?" Careful movements disengaged him from the slender arms and he stood, calling his partner lightly. Blond shook and he just asked for a tray to be brought to the door. "There won't be a problem with me opening the door, will there?"

A sly smile and Farfarello rolled again, flopping over on his back, stomach exposed. Darias shivered at the thought of being half naked in the cold room, especially lying on the floor with only a thin layer of blankets to sleep on. Another little smile and the blond rolled again, gliding to his feet, silver in his hands. "No, probably not."

There was a knock and Darias sensed his partner outside. **Taran.**

**Open the door, Darias. **Dark eyes shuttered but he pulled the door open quietly and let the taller man step by him. **I'll deal with you later.**

A tentative smile and a small hand fluttered down the solid arm, caressing gently before taking the tray. "Farfarello, come get this please. I need to speak to Taran." Pale hands reached around and covered his instantly; the tiny jerk at the unexpected contact was impossible to hide. A brilliant grin at his success and the blond retreated, taking the tray to settle in his nest. **Taran.**

**Don't. I don't want to hear it. What the fuck do you think you're doing? You were out, the door was closed, you walked right back in here, you little, complete IDIOT! **Darias shifted his shoulders to straighten them further, staring up at his partner; his lips tightened but he tried not to let Taran upset him. The older brunet was prone to yelling when he was angry but he'd hoped his partner would understand.

**Well, you certainly sound like you want to hear it.** The smaller man glared up, nose scrunched in annoyance. **I'm building here. I didn't have to come back, and he knows it. I surprised him and I've gotten him to acknowledge that we are deserving of his respect, at least a bit. Lying or trying to deceive him will turn him against us and we need him on our side. **Because Taran would never reach out, Darias did, slender hand running over the tight arm to tangle lightly in tense fingers. **Be patient. Schuldig will wake up and you can trade me for him. Farfarello and I have made a deal and we will uphold our end.**

The older man looked down at his smaller partner, gentler but not weaker, and tried not to frown. **Let me stay. You can trade the brat for me. Darias, go back to our room and wait for me.**

Soft laughter and a softer kiss pressed to his mouth, the pressure returned by habit.**No, I promised. It will be alright, I swear. **Even if the telepath didn't say it, Darias knew he was his partner's world, and he had promised himself long ago to never endanger that, no matter what. **I love you. Go sit with Schuldig, he'll be confused when he wakes up.**Another tiny kiss and the empath nudged his partner out the door, waving as he closed it lightly behind him.

"Why do you like him so much? He's not that great." The words were slightly muffled, spoken around partially chewed food.

"Don't talk with your mouth full. You have manners, use them. As to why I like him, he's my partner. I just do." A blanket had been folded and set aside and Darias settled on it, legs crossed. "Why do you like Schuldig?"

A loud swallow and the blond spoke before shoveling more food into his mouth. "He's like me." A piece of bread and container of stew were held out and taken quietly. "Read to me."

"Certainly. Right after I eat. You didn't answer my question. Would you like a bath tonight? If I'm with you, we might be able to use the main showers." A change of pace from the usual ten minutes Farfarello and Schuldig were allowed in a locked, lukewarm shower room. "They're quite a bit nicer than mine even, you might like it." And maybe, if he knew what he was missing, the blond would be more inclined to earn privileges

A rolled shrug and the boy stood, stretching lightly. He continued to stretch, moving each muscle smoothly while Darias ate. The instant he was finished, thin arms folded over the brunet's stomach, pale hair resting on his shoulder. "Read." A soft command this time and the older man reached for the book, opening it to a new section before continuing. Greasy hair rubbed his neck steadily before coming to rest; quiet breathing signaled the blond was asleep.

The brunet stopped reading and set the book aside, running his fingers through long strands. 'Poor thing.' Usually, he believed in what they were doing, training those who would otherwise die in the outside world, but this child... He had no talent, he was just crazy. A fanatic with destroyed nerves and an active mind, filled with hatred and creative ways to cause pain. Pity welled but was brushed firmly aside.

If he wanted Farfarello and Schuldig to survive to fulfill his Vision, he couldn't afford to be easy on them.

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Hours passed quietly, the boy waking and wandering the cell, glancing from time to time at his quiet companion, who rested calmly against the wall. Stretching, hundreds of pushups and crunches, and suicide runs from wall to wall served to pass the time and Darius' respect grew for the young man. 'So this is how he amuses himself.' After the second hour of steady activity and a brief rest to draw, the empath stood and brushed his pants down. "Farfarello. Come here."

The bright eye blinked slowly before turning away, focusing instead on the page on the floor, pencil scribbling away. "Farfarello. Now." Another slow blink and the blond rolled to his feet and wandered over, pencil flipping through his fingers. "Would you like to play with me?"

Long hair tipped to the side and the cool gaze traveled over the slender body. "What can you play?" His contempt was clear, radiating from the crossed arms and roaming eye. Obviously, someone as skinny and soft feeling as the empath wouldn't be good for much.

Darius smiled a bit and rolled his shoulders before cracking his hands. "Put all weapons on the floor and I'll show you." The pencil clattered on the floor, followed by a pair of small knives. "Shirt too."

A mocking grin and the short sleeved shirt was tugged over the blond head. Another knife was tucked into the waist band of white pants. "Do I need to strip you?"

"No." The knife fell to join the others and a short piece of cord joined the small pile. "That's it."

Darias looked him over carefully before stepping forward. "Come, we'll spar. First blood wins." Yellow skimmed up and down his body again. The brunet grinned; this would be fun.

Farfarello suddenly launched himself forward, small fists swinging but the older man was long gone, out of reach, his own fists raised to eye level. Around the cell, they moved in circles, the blond attacking steadily. He got a few hits in but barely enough to bruise.

Darias laughed and switched from defending to attacking, driving the smaller body back under a hail of controlled punches. Body hits were the most effective, sending the smaller form stumbling back instead of going for pain centers. He watched the slightly panting boy pick himself up from the last one. "Farfarello, you can't just throw yourself forward. Brute force is all fine and good as long as your opponent is some idiot from the street. Technique will win, even against you."

An annoyed grunt and the blond shoved against the wall, propelling himself forward, a scream on his lips. Again, Darias led him in circles, defending until there was a break. And again, he knocked the boy backwards to roll head over heels into the wall. The brunet was on him before he could bounce back to his feet, a firm hand pinning the thin neck to the floor. "Stop." Blood trickled from a shallow cut on the high forehead as the blond head thrashed from side to side.

Thin hips jerked under his and soft grunts vibrated through the delicate chest as the blond tried to control himself. Battle lust rode him hard and Darias pushed quiet and calm at him, leaching the rage away. "Good. Do you understand?"

"Yes." The restraining hand pulled away and the older man began to stand. Slender legs twisted and wrapped around his throat, dragging him backwards in a choke hold. "Win at all costs."

Darias slid his arms between the tight legs and shoved at the joints, breaking the hold. "No. Never, ever risk your partner. He is the only thing to exist for and he needs you more than you need to live." There would be no one who would teach the boy that here, but the empath was determined to meld both boys into a perfect team. "Even if you lose, you make sure Schuldig lives."

Amber stared as he sat up, leaning back on one arm, defenses down. They were tangled together, the smaller body hot wherever it touched his. "Yes, Guilt. Only I can kill Guilt, he belongs to me."

A chill ran down Darias' spine at the calm proclamation. Maybe Farfarello really did hate Schuldig as much as he loved him. The boy suddenly grinned and rolled away to his feet. It was almost magical, the way he contorted his body to disentangle their legs. "Again."

'Taran is gonna kill me.' Darias shifted to his feet and took a step back, lifting his fists to shoulder level. "Alright, go ahead." The charming grin shifted to a maniacal smirk as the blond charged, fists swinging again.

The older man stepped back again, thinking to lead his student in a circle again and wait it out. A flash of white and a slender leg caught him on his side even as he moved to block it. The next strike came from the opposite side, a hard little fist slamming into his upraised arm before the calloused palm slid down his arm to his shoulder. It was almost a shock to feel his joint strain. The brunet lashed out quickly with his foot and caught the boy hard enough on the hip to throw him enough off balance that he had to retreat.

'If he'd had a weapon, I'd be dead.' Dark eyes watched the bouncing blond. 'I'm lucky he didn't dislocate my shoulder as it is.' Yellow stared back, the rush of a good fight lighting it. "That was good, Farfarello. Come here, I'll show you how to do it properly."

The empath dropped his fists and held out a hand. When it was taken, he drew the boy in and positioned his hands at the proper pressure points. "Push here and here. It'll dislocate almost anyone's shoulder and cause enough damage to incapacitate the entire upper side." Pressure increased as the young killer tested the hold. "You depend on your weapons too much. Use your legs more, they're stronger than your arms."

They practiced different forms and attacks, working over strategy. The brunet was amazed; he'd known Farfarello wasn't half as cracked as he appeared at first glance but the way he was picking up the basics of boxing was on par with his killing abilities. **Taran.** A wide flung call and he could feel his partner push back, even if he didn't say anything. Can you bring me a chess set?

**Why? Not like he can play. **Taran groused from the office and Darias smiled, pushing a sense of teasing back.

Even when he was pouting, his partner was adorable. **Please?** The dark head snapped back under the blond's fist. The empath jerked back to look at the skinny boy who had his hands on thin hips, yellow eye narrowed at him.

"No talking!" He looked so serious, outraged even, that his trainer wasn't paying attention to him.

With that thought, Darias froze before lowering his fists. 'That's it. That's why he and Schuldig are a pair. They both need attention and to be the only focus in this hell.' But was Schuldig really the only one who could stand the blond's mind long enough to be with him? It seemed so, at least so far. "Let's stop for the day."

An uncaring shrug and Farfarello wandered off to snuffle through his nest, rummaging at the far end. He dragged a book out and crawled over to sit on the edge of a blanket. "Read this."

"Farfarello, can you not read?" The brunet still walked over and settled on the floor, taking the book held out to him.

The bright eye stared at him, a dark brow arched. "Certainly. How else could I read God's word and prove it false?"

Of course. 'How _could _I be so stupid?' Darias resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Fine. I'll read you a chapter then you read me one." Time to teach the concept of teamwork. Another shrug and the blond climbed into his lap, curling around his waist.

They read steadily until Darias' voice gave out. Farfarello settled in to eat his supper, chopping it up into shreds of carrot and bun. Each vegetable was picked carefully out and cut up before being mixed back in; the mixture was tossed and played with until Darias spoke. "Farfarello, why are you wasting your food? Aren't you hungry?"

"I'm not wasting it. Food is precious, it must never be wasted." The single eye peeked through long bangs. "Being hungry is not good."

The empath watched as the blond started to eat, licking his fingertip to collect every crumb. "Do you do that when Schuldig is with you?"

"No. Guilt does not like to eat, so I have to be fast." Farfarello chewed quickly. "He gets sick."

'Does he?' How interesting. The brunet leaned back on his elbow. "Why is he sick? Does he not like the food?" This was more personal information than they had gotten in the last three months.

"He hears the echoes from those who make it. They make him sick." Thin lips slid into a smirk. "My Guilt is as cursed as I."

'Psychometry? No, can't be. He came up negative on everything but telepathy and a minor in biokinesis.' Darias sat up and rested his hands on his knees. "Farfarello, what does he hear?" White flipped at him and he glared. "He'll hurt himself and he needs to eat."

"I make him eat." A statement of fact and the blond continued shoveling food into his mouth. "He is my tool and must earn a death by hands other than mine." Darias' plate was eyed then grabbed and finished off quickly while the brunet stared.

"Farfarello, do not ever say that again." The amber eye glanced up at the bite in the words. "Schuldig is your partner; he is not a tool or a toy. He is the reason you exist, to protect him and keep him safe at all costs is your duty." How, how could he get through to the boy? "He is the air you breathe and the food you eat. Without him, you would fade to nothing."

Long hair swung as the blond leaned forward, head cocked. He rolled to his knees and slunk towards his experiment subject. "I was born to end the reign of the false God. Guilt is nothing, as you are nothing, this place is but rubble and dust to my destiny." Pale hands slipped into Darias' hair then trailed over his eyes to wrap around the slender neck. "Should I remove you from my presence?"

"That wasn't part of our deal, Farfarello." Deep eyes looked straight into the single pale one staring so intently. He would just have to wait it out and hope it wasn't a fit. Stopping a fit would be far, far beyond him.

Long minutes, fingers flexing slowly, almost a pulse, and the blond pulled away. "Read." The brunet remained still for a moment then reached for a book and opened it to an unread section. He read for an hour, until the boy fell asleep in a ball on the floor.

A quiet knock and the older empath stood and answered the door, silently allowing his partner to enter the cool room. "Hey. I brought a cot and some blankets. Thought you might be cold." No mention of their argument or what, if anything, Taran had seen from the window.

"Thank you." Darias leaned up for a quick kiss, and hugged his partner briefly. "It will be fine. But, it is cold here. Can they warm it up a little?"

"I'll ask." They set the small cot up as quietly as possible and settled heavy blankets in place. "Number JD910 is doing well. His shoulder is nearly healed though the lash marks aren't making much headway. His minor is kicking in strongly, he'll need to be tested for it." Darias shrugged. "He was making noise earlier. The doctor said he could be awake as early as tomorrow."

"You could call him Schuldig, you know." A thin hand slid into the bigger one. "I won't tell." An annoyed snort and Darias laughed quietly, leaning his head on a wide shoulder. "Have you been trying to talk to him?"

"Yeah, yeah. Nothing. Like he was never there." The brunet found it strange that there was no response; even in extreme cases, he could usually get something back, even if only babbling. "Damn brat. Do you think he's doing it on purpose somehow?" The only other answer was his own talent was fading and that would mean expulsion from his position.

"Maybe. I wouldn't put it past them." Darias shrugged and rolled his head on his partner's shoulder. "You should go. Stay with him, please?" He heard the huff of annoyance in his mind and squeezed the trim waist gently. "It's only a few days."

A few soft kisses and the older man slipped out, watching the door close behind him. 'Now what?' He wanted to stay and watch through the observation window but if he did, Darias would be angry and know he hadn't been with Number JD910. Slow steps turned to the medical ward and he trudged along with his hands in his pockets.

**Hey, pain in my ass, wake up already.** The boy didn't even flinch, not even a mental reaction to the shove. **Look, Darias is in there with that psycho and you just lay here.** Still nothing. The brunet sighed and slumped forward in his chair, head in his hands. What would happen if the redhead didn't wake up? What about Darias? What about him?

When he looked up, glazed eyes were watching him, blinking slowly against the overly bright lights. Taran scanned immediately and picked up the faint signs of consciousness, a soft pulse at the edges of his mind. His eyes narrowed when it blinked out of existence, leaving only the physical reaction to his presence. "JD910, are you awake?" It seemed a pointless question but he had to know if the child was suppressing his mental signature on purpose or if he'd lost control of it somehow.

"Yesh." A slight slur and a pale hand lifted an inch. "No?" The brunet leaned in and checked the dark pupils; normal enough. His big hands ran over the thin shoulder, easing around the bandage, checking for inflammation, tenderness, and signs of infection. "Far.." The name dissolved in a coughing fit.

"Here." A glass was pressed to dry lips and water spilled, soaking the thin shirt. "Dammit." Taran sighed and took a sip, leaning in to pass it from mouth to mouth. Schuldig turned his head as much as he could and clamped his lips together. "Look you stupid brat, just take it." A stubborn shake of long hair and the older man smacked a hand down on the flat stomach.

A startled gasp and he swooped in, forcing water into the open mouth while holding the small nose closed. Frantic choking and the smaller male swallowed quickly, harsh coughs racking the thin body. **No! **Weak hands tried to bat at the offending form but couldn't move very far.

"Stop it. You listen to me and listen well." Taran wiped his mouth and glared at the coughing boy. "Darias is risking his life to buy enough time for you to wake up. Now I don't know why he's so fascinated with you two worthless brats but he's got it in his head that you're faking being as weak as you are." Green stared straight up at him, fearlessly meeting his gaze. "I don't give a shit. As of this instant, you either behave yourselves or I'll break you both over my knee." A flash of insolence in the calm eyes and he leaned forward to whisper against pale lips. "Don't think I won't, not even for a second. You are worthless to me, not even worth a thought. If not for Darias, I'd have had you put down months ago." He pulled away to look the white cheeks over, smirking slightly; finally, a bit of fear. "Now, you and I are going to go and trade partners."

Schuldig remained silent, staring up at the brunet. He wasn't scared, he knew what that felt like and this was something else. Respect maybe? He'd never had anyone that was worth respecting in his life before so maybe it wasn't. It might be a kind of envy, that this man, Taran, would care enough about someone to risk his life just to make sure they wouldn't be harmed. It wasn't a bad feeling, just strange and he shook it off to watch clean clothes be put on.

His arms felt weird, as if they were beyond his control. Trying to lift one was painful and he didn't bother to try the injured shoulder. His shirt was changed quickly and professionally, with no straying hands, and a pair of white pants was eased up his legs carefully. "Good. I'm calling someone to carry you out and we'll do the trade fast and easy."

"No. Not yet." The redhead shook his head slowly, flinching from the tight pull of healing scabs. "Not yet."

Taran leaned over the bed and forced the small face to look directly at him. "One good reason why not. Just one, and I'll let you stay here."

Green stared, debating what to tell him. That Farfarello would rip him to shreds if he smelled the blood on his skin? That his mental facilities were too weak from the shock to be fully controlled? Perhaps playing the weak child would be the best choice. Trembling fingers lifted slowly to clutch at the loose shirt, curling into soft fabric. "Please." Delicate tears shone in green eyes, clinging to long lashes.

He knew he looked adorable and helpless. "Ha. Ha, ha, ha, ha!" The brunet leaned forward and laughed, shoulders shaking almost violently as he howled into he thin shoulder. "Maybe you will be…" He paused, then pulled back to look down at the boy as he frowned slightly. "Maybe."

The white shirt was yanked abruptly from the tight grip and heavy steps clicked rapidly out of the room. **Two days. And you contact Number 928TX if you can. No harm to Darias and you can stay.** They might, just might, be able to pull this off. Something about those two, subtle and sneaky, a slightly disquieting feeling that was easy to miss or pass off as nerves, that something was the key to everything. 'Be safe, Dar. Just a few more days.'

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I tried to make all mental speech in bold, so let me know if it didn't work. Thank you and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

Argh! So long! I'm sorry, I really am. But, we have an eventful chapter! Kinda sorta, but stuff happens, so I hope you enjoy it! At least it's long, right?

Chapter 8

Darias shifted from sleep to awareness in an instant, remaining frozen on his back. A small weight was settled against his side, hot in the cold room. It had taken him hours to fall asleep, listening to Farfarello's lazy breathing from the nest and thinking of Taran. As he opened his eyes, the white blond head tilted and the single eye stared into his.

"Good morning, Farfarello." A fluid shift and the boy straddled his hips, pinning the older man down. Silver flashed between thin fingers but Darias noted that it wasn't cutting. 'I wonder if it's just a habit now?'

Instead of a response, lust flashed over the instructor's senses and he blinked. 'Where did that come from?' Thin hips moved over his, the skinny ass pressing against his groin. 'Did Farfarello do that?' The burn of lust flashed again, fast and hard and Darias hid a grin.

It must be. The blond must be trying to use a basic urge against him. It was kind of cute. For an empath with poor shields, sex was a shield and bargaining tool for protection. Darias had survived the years before he met Taran by using his body as payment for borrowed shields. No inexperienced child could beat him by using sex. But this kind of game might be a bit dangerous against Farfarello. "No."

Pale, eerie eyes narrowed when his efforts yielded no results and the blond shifted again, twisting the feeling until it vibrated with a tinge of rage as well. "No, Farfarello."

"Yes." Darias gritted his teeth and shifted only to have the blade that had been twirling harmlessly rest against his throat. "Yes, yes."

Enough. The brunet pushed hard, forcing lust back at the thin body. Not the same as when the boy tried to use it, but the experienced feeling of passion and satisfaction from sweating and pleasure. He took advantage of the stiffening of the form on top of him and rolled them, crashing to the floor with the smaller body under his.

A thin arm twisted up until it touched the base of the blond's skull, the second hand pinned beneath a hard knee. "No. When your partner says no, what do you say?"

High pitched giggling turned to cackling as strong legs kicked and the slender back arched. "Yes! Yes, yes, yes!" Darias slammed the laughing face into the concrete.

"No. You say okay and let go." Laughter continued and he pounded the boy's head against the floor until it stopped. "What do you say when your partner says no?"

A choked word from against the bloody floor and the boy went silent. "I'm letting go. Get up and retrieve your towel. We're going for a shower."

Darias slid backwards carefully, keeping his grip until the last moment but the younger man didn't move. He turned his back and made the cot up nicely, tucking the edges in. Dragging of cloth on concrete and a soft cough came from behind but he didn't turn until he was finished. Farfarello was staring at him from the other side of the room, blood trailing his face from a cut on his forehead and what was likely a broken nose. "No shower."

"You are not a child, speak properly. And yes, we are going for a shower. You stink." Yellow glared but the boy made no move to either fight or go along with the plan. "Farfarello, get your towel please."

"Can't." A dark brow rose in question and thin lips parted in a smile, revealing a split lip. "I tore it up." Darias closed his eyes and shook his head in defeat. "Guilt was mad because I tore his too."

The older man kept his eyes closed to hide the surprise. Volunteered information was a treasure and might mean the boy was starting to like him a little. Or at least not hate him. "Fine. I'll get you a new one. Come here, please." Slow weaving strides made their way over and firm arms were held up so the brunet could remove weapons. "Is that all of them?"

No answer but he couldn't find any more, even when he slid his hands down the white pants and over firm legs and buttocks. "Alright, you know how to do this. I'm going to call Taran and he'll bring the cuffs." No response again and Darias looked up to see the pale eye closed. He forced it open to check for a concussion but the blond looked fine._ Taran._

_Yeah._ An immediate answer made the younger partner smile.

_We're going for a shower. Can you bring us a chess set when you come? And first meal, please. _The mutter of acknowledgement was quiet and grumbly but Darias flickered at him, tapping his partner's shields until he laughed. _Thank you._

"You're welcome." Darias squeaked as the door opened unexpectedly and Taran stepped in, cuffs in hand. A guard slipped in behind him with a tray that he set carefully on the cot and backed out. "Go ahead, eat quick."

With a glare, the blond darted away from his inspector and grabbed a bun to stuff in his mouth while he opened containers. _Taran, I need you to do a scan. He's been displaying signs of empathy._ Darias leaned up to kiss his lover softly. "Thank you for the food. No luck getting the room warmed up?"

"Hardring wouldn't approve it, claims the cold keeps him inactive." A snort showed the taller man's feelings for the verdict. _Are you sure? He's been blank so far in everything. Empathy's kind of a delicate talent, isn't it?_

_Not really, sensitive but not delicate. He was trying to use it against me this morning._ Taran nodded shortly and focused on his target. He stiffened immediately and gripped Darias' hand until the smaller man flinched. "What?"

"Fuck." Farfarello looked up and grinned at them. He was a terrifying sight with blood drying on his face and hair and too much knowledge in his eye. _Where did it come from? I've been in his head a dozen times and not seen even a hint of it. He's not only failed every test but down right flat-lined them._ He continued to stare at the boy eating on the cot. "What the fuck are you?"

Thin fingers were licked clean and started to rub red streaks from the crooked nose. "God's assassin. I will hunt Him and His faithful fools until the ends of the Earth and back." No passion, only stated facts and Darias squeezed Taran's hand. "Guilt says I must be clean when he returns to me. Take me to wash."

"Use proper manners when you speak to us." The younger brunet stepped forward and planted his hands on his hips. "You may ask things of us but you are not to deliver orders." The two young men stared at each other while Farfarello sorted out his options. _Taran, what did you find?_

_Not much. Empathy, definitely, but it's slippery. I couldn't get a grasp of how strong he is. _Taran's head tilted. _He's talking to JD910 now. Maybe I can –ugh._ Darias turned at the mental grunt but was waved back to watching the blond. _Tagged me, nothing major._

"Farfarello." The clear eye focused on Darias. "Would you like to come for a shower with me?" Taran hissed but was waved to be quiet.

Yellow wandered away to trace designs on the wall and back, trailing over the entire room before fixing on his hands. "Yes, please."

Darias just smiled and took the cuffs from Taran's belt. "Let's go." Thin wrists were cuffed behind the white shirt, metal tight enough to dig into pale skin. "It's not far."

"Yes." The instructor cleared his throat encouragingly. "Yes, sir."

"Thank you. I think you've earned an extra meal today. Is there anything you'd like?" Thin shoulders moved in a lazy circle. "Alright, come along." _Taran, can you follow us? Watch out for his feet. _The empath paused and glanced at his partner. "When did Schuldig wake up?"

"This morning. He calls to me." A lopsided grin and Farfarello leaned against Darias, rubbing his cheek against the wider chest like a cat. "His pulse beats in my mouth, I starve until he comes to feed me again."

_Around two this morning. I'm letting him stay in the medical ward for another day or so._ Darias jerked his head in a short nod and took the choker collar to slip around the blond's neck. _I'll grab a game board while you're in the shower and let the kitchens know we need an extra meal._

"Thank you, Taran. When did you last check on the other boys? They have level tests this week." Darias took a step towards the door, then another before he halted, lead taut between him and the blond who was leaning away from it. "Farfarello, come."

The oldest man gave the smallest a shove, sending the boy stumbling forward for balance. "I checked this morning. Emily and Zip are watching them today. Their team is almost ready, so they have some extra time between sets." _So try to play nicely when you see Emily next, hmm?_

_Bite me._ "That sounds good. Farfarello, come!" A firm jerk on the chain dug metal into pale skin, leaving red marks when the pressure eased back for a second. Long white hair shook in a flurry as the youngest took a step backwards. Darias took a deep breath and counted mentally to ten. "Farfarello." He waited until the young man stopped fighting and just stood quietly. "What is the problem? You want to shower, don't you? Wouldn't you like to be clean when Schuldig comes back?"

'Please let him behave.' Darias tried to stifle the sigh and held his patience fast. 'Just wait it out, he'll answer.' As much as he was starting to like the boy, it was incredibly frustrating to have that yellow gaze travel over him as if he were transparent.

"Yes." Unfocused amber trailed the walls before settling on Taran. "I'm hungry."

Taran snorted and crossed his arms. "You just ate." Like he would care if the brat was hungry.

"You may have another meal when we get back but now it is time to have a shower." The older brunet watched his partner smile and cajole, thinking that his patience must be infinite. His sweet Darias, always too gentle.

And perfectly willing to be vicious as was about to be demonstrated. The younger brunet coiled the lead around his hand slowly, lining the links up carefully. White hair shook again and tugged backwards. In an instant, the boy was choking, gasping for air from his stomach where the hard yank on his collar had sent him sprawling. "Get up."

Farfarello didn't move and a booted foot slammed into his side. "Get up!" The lead was still firm between them, just enough leeway for the smaller form to rise. Instead, a lean leg slashed out and was blocked immediately before being slammed down with a crack. "Enough. On your feet. You have five seconds to get to your feet and follow." A quiet snarl and the blond lay still, completely limp.

"One." Darias took a step backwards. "Two." Taran moved around the bundle on the floor to stand beside his partner. "Three."

_He's not kidding, you know. He's much nicer than I am but he will take away your extra meal._ The taller man leaned on his smaller partner and grinned at the glare that was directed from under white hair.

"Four." Still no movement and Darias shook his head. "Alright. Fi" Halfway through the last number, he paused as the blond started to wiggle up to his knees and rolled to his feet slowly. "Good. Come along."

One uneven step, then another as Farfarello followed slowly, weaving slightly. Taran kept an eye on him, frowning a bit as he watched the usually fluid movements jerk and drag almost painfully along. _Dar, what's wrong with him?_

_Don't know, started right after he was communicating with Schuldig._ Darias almost stopped at the regular shower but decided after all this effort it would be a shame not to use the better one. And it was only a few more feet down the hall and around the corner. "Here we go. A nice hot shower will feel good."

"No." Little heels dug into the floor and the blond snarled at his leader. "No."

'What now?' Taran reached back to lift the resisting body and was snapped at. "You little brat, stop it."

Gold stared at the door while the slender body shuffled backwards to the end of the metal leash. "No. Guilt said not that one."

The taller brunet growled and made as if to grab again but was held back by a thin hand on his arm. "Is Schuldig with you? Can he speak to me?"

White hair rolled back, falling almost to the middle of the skinny back before snapping forward fixing Darias with a clear, watchful gaze. "If you take him in there, you'll die." A shiver ran over the empath's back and he tilted his head to encourage the telepath speaking through the blond. "I have him for now but if you taunt him with the blood of his victims, he will kill you." A sharp, bitter smirk. "I will not save you as I did this morning."

_Taran, get someone in to check on Schuldig._ No immediate response from his partner. _Now! Have them check his shoulder and any other obvious injuries._ While his older lover contacted the medical ward, Darias took a step towards Farfarello's still body. "Schuldig, if I ask questions, will you answer them truthfully?"

"Maybe." That vaguely flirtatious tone in Farfarello's low voice felt like spiders crawling over pale skin. "Try me." The pink tongue slid over pale, bitten lips, frighteningly sensual combined with the soft pants of air around each word.

"Are you taking energy from Farfarello?"

"Yes." A glance at Taran received a brief nod. "If you don't believe me, why ask?"

"I believe you." An eyebrow arched. "Did you meddle with his metabolism?" Thin lips tilted in a sly smile but the blond looked away, staring at the ceiling. _How's he doing?_ "Can you pick up thoughts and/or feelings from inanimate objects?"

"No."

Taran spoke in Darias' mind at the same time. _Almost healed, the shoulder is mobile and his back is just about done. They're restraining him now, though he hasn't shown any signs of aggression yet._

"And I won't. I wish to be returned to Farfarello's side." Both trainers stared at the blond form. "Do not take him to that room." White jerked and when the amber eye opened again, it was definitely Farfarello who stared out at them, a tiny smile on his lips.

"We'll use this one. There will be enough room for us both I think." Darias opened the smaller room and hustled his charge inside before they had an issue in the hallway.

_I'll bring the other one around when you're done._ The younger partner smiled and nodded before nudging his lover to the entrance.

Shutting the door in Taran's face, he bargained. "Farfarello, promise not to harm me in any way and I will release you."

White tipped as the boy thought, tapping his foot casually. "Ok. No harm will come to you by my hands until we return to my room." He grinned suddenly, startling the older empath. "I won't even try to escape your hold on me."

'Damn, didn't think of that.' Darias smiled back and dipped his hand into his pocket to retrieve the key and unclipped the cuffs. They left thin red mars on pale skin that he rubbed gently for a second. Even if they didn't hurt, it was for the best that the younger empath get used to having his hands on him.

Farfarello stood still for a few moments then started to fidget, running his fingers over the smooth tile and investigating the slightly rougher grout. It was so different from the rough walls and floor of his cell where the only smoothness to be found was the icy cold metal door. The shower he usually shared with Guilt was made of the same stuff, rough and difficult for the older boy to touch. He looked around to see Darias stripping and fooling with the taps to adjust the temperature.

"Here, this should be good. Want to try?" That cool stare was making the older man nervous but he hid it by stepping under the water and letting it slick his hair back. "Come on, there isn't much time." They wouldn't be able to keep the others locked out for long.

The boy's head tilted as if he were listening to an unseen song and he slipped his blood streaked clothing off and into a pile. Darias motioned him over and carefully finger combed blood from pale hair. "Wash up." He was quite impressed that the blond was behaving himself so well. The occasion was taken advantage of to inspect the greasy scalp for cuts or infections. He tried to remove the patch but was snarled at, his hands shaken away; no matter. The condition of the eye wasn't that important.

Soap refused to foam in the heavy mass and Darias took over, washing the boy's hair four times before it felt a bit clean. "One more." Fidgeting had started and apparently there was something interesting on the far wall, as the younger man kept trying to get away to look at it. "Hold still for just another minute."

Exactly sixty seconds later, his captive was gone to inspect a little crack and pick chips of tile from the broken area. The brunet just shook his head and washed up, turning the water up a few notches for a minute to relax his back. After sleeping on a cot for the first time in at least two decades, he had realized he really wasn't that young anymore and now he felt like an old man. A rather depressing thought in the end and he stood under the spray considering it.

When he looked up, Farfarello had vanished. "Farfarello?" No answer, not that he really expected one. "Farfarello come here." A shuffle from around the corner made his heart beat faster. It was supposed to be blocked off there, that section of the showers being remodeled after a telekinetic had a fit. He stepped forward and turned to see the blond perched on top of the piles of brick, playing with what looked to be a screwdriver or hammer.

It was impossible to tell from the angle but fear attacked, shredding newly relaxed nerves. "Farfarello, come here and leave that alone." Somehow, the boy had slipped through the barricade to the work area but there was no way Darias would be able to follow.

"You should not tempt me so." A quiet smile as the younger empath dropped his toy and hopped down. He wriggled under a pile of wood to bend over backwards and slip through the bars of the temporary wall. He angled his shoulders to get by and hauled himself out with only his arms, bucking his hips to get them over the bar. When he was through, he leaned against Darias' side and slid angular hands over the pale stomach, tracing slender muscle. "Guilt says it would be foolish to kill you." The pink tongue darted out to lick the brunet's neck. "Though I believe you would be delicious."

'Oh God, how did he get so big?' The sharp curve of the delicate nose tucked into behind the older man's ear, white hair moving in a damp mess against the soft cheek. Strong hands moved to rest on top of the thinner ones, holding them in place. "You said you wouldn't run away."

"I am still here." The younger man pulled away abruptly and wandered under the still running water, rinsing away the last of the soap and dust. "I am finished." He turned to stare expectantly at Darias.

The brunet licked his lips and walked past to retrieve the towels. 'He is maturing so quickly.' Far too quickly for a boy of fourteen. The thin shoulders were widening, the smooth lines of a child curving into those of a well built man; it hadn't bothered him earlier before he stepped back and looked. As long as he didn't look, Darias could think of him as a dangerous child. Deadly, vicious, terrifying, but still a child.

The skinny form before him was no child.

Clean clothes slid easily to cover pale skin and the metal bracelets clipped into place. It was a quick walk back to the cell, the blond following quietly at the end of his lead. When they arrived, Darias opened the door to find a hot meal waiting as well as a chess board. Once Farfarello was released, he dug into the plastic containers happily while Darias set up the game and cleared a spot for them to sit on the floor.

He waited patiently, letting the younger man roam and investigate the newly bleached floors and the rearranged nest. After a few minutes of wriggling around and fixing his blankets in an unimaginable pattern, Farfarello crawled along the floor to prod at the king piece on Darias' side of the board. "Sit. We're going to play a game now. It's a strategy game, about thinking ahead and anticipating your opponent."

Each move was explained carefully while the pieces were moved around randomly. "Farfarello, are you listening?" A big, innocent eye blinked at him. "Well, put them where they belong and try." Once they were lines up properly, Darias lifted his knight and made the first move.

The younger man's movements were random for the most part but he seemed to enjoy capturing pieces greatly, knocking them down and playing with them at the side of the board. They bounced around, were stacked and knocked over, clicking softly against each other as Darias took his time making his moves. Finally, eh captured the black king and declared the game over.

Movement ceased from the captured pawns area and yellow shifted to look at him, then examine the board. "No."

"Yes, Farfarello. You weren't paying attention and you lost." A long-fingered hand hovered over the board for a second before moving pieces back into a position from almost a dozen moves before. Darias' breath whispered in at the show of memory.

The younger man didn't seem to notice, busy tapping pieces on the head as he shuffled them around restlessly. Finally, he made his choice and looked up, nearly wriggling as his competitive nature took over. It may have been a more quiet version of his favorite kill or die fight but it was still a competition.

The game was replayed with the same result and was reset a few moves for the blond to reconsider his choices. As soon as the third game was complete, Darias took the board and packed the pieces away. "No more." A pawn was claimed and vanished ito the soft folds of the loose white clothing. "Farfarello."

White floated out behind the running form as it darted for the nest. "Ask for it properly or give it back." The blanket quivered and a yellow eye peered out from the bundle. "Farfarello, ask or hand it over. It is not yours unless I give it to you."

"If I take it, it belongs to me." Darias' arms folded over his chest and he arched a brow. Either the pawn would become a missile or he would have to go after it. "Give it to me."

"No." The older empath's hand flashed as he struck the small plastic piece out of the air and blocked the charge with his other arm. Silver scrapped against his skin, slicing the pale line of his arm open to bleed freely.

A long leg swept up to slam into a thin forearm beside the pale head. Long fingers tried to wrap around the ankle but it was pulled back too quickly. The straight forward rush sent both bodies crashing to the ground, the older unable to dodge on one foot and the smaller riding the thicker waist. They stared at each other until the blond looked around, checking his surroundings before grabbing the bleeding arm and leaning in to lick flowing red.

Darias stiffened against the rush of adrenalin and pleasure that flooded over him. Another lick and he flinched as the quick little tongue slid into the wound, opening it further. "Farfarello." Brilliant amber nearly glowed at him, staring down from its position above his hand. Rough lips skimmed over jerking skin an instant before strong teeth nipped the base of the wide-spread palm. "Stop!"

Quiet chuckles turned to soft laughter, gaining in volume as the sound became more and more disjointed. Abruptly, it halted and the long hair snapped forward. "Didn't I say I wouldn't save you again?" Pale hands released their grip on the older man's neck and the slender body rolled back on its heels to stand.

_Dar? I've got JD910._ There was a pause while Taran spoke to the guard. _What's going on?_

_Nothing of consequence._ The empath struggled to his feet, cradling his arm against his body. _I'll get the door._

"No need." Heavy metal swung open with a scrape and Taran motioned the guard to place Schuldig on the cot. The redhead had short hair again, cut nearly to his scalp, and was wrapped in a thin sheet. He lay without moving, a limp bundle as the blond form watched from the other side of the room. "Darias, come on."

It was tempting to stay and chaperone them but his arm throbbed and he could see Schuldig's control wavering as Farfarello's hands started to twitch. The younger trainer let his partner wrap an arm around his waist and leaned into the familiar warmth and scent. _As soon as you are bandaged up, I'm going to beat you until you can't move for a week, got that?_

"Hmm." It felt good to be off his feet, even if it meant being tossed over his partner's shoulder. Pain was dulling as shock set in and the smaller brunet was starting to feel positively giddy. Though, being upside down might have had something to do with that. Even the potential for a beating at Taran's hands, and he would too, wasn't enough to disturb him. _Did you find out who was using the shower before us?_

_Wheat took Frin for a walk this morning and they stopped to have a real shower._ There was a hint of grin and Taran patted his partner's ass. _You how Frin hates things like sponge baths._

Darias smiled into the broad back and wrapped his arms around the trim waist, tickling one-handedly. _As much as you hate this?_

The door clicked behind them, closing off Taran's soft swearing. Farfarello's eye opened slowly and he wandered over to lean over the cot. "Guilt." A long finger prodded the redhead's shoulder, looking for a response.

"Hey, Far." A sleepy smile and the older teen rolled to face his partner, leaving enough room for him to climb on the narrow bed. "Did you have fun while I was gone?"

"Why didn't you let me kill him?" Breath ghosted hotly over pale cheeks and Schuldig closed his eyes to hear the low voice again. Lower than when he'd left and he now fit directly under the slightly pointed chin instead of staring into the scarred face.

'Have to fix his metabolism again.' He nuzzled the firm chest against his cheek. "We need them to get out of here. They'll pave the road to our freedom and we'll flood it with their blood."

Farfarello was quiet for a few minutes then rolled to his feet and carried his thin partner back to their nest. "Yes. I will wait for the moment."


End file.
